
Class J: 



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THE BEGINNING OF HOME INPLUENOB 




HARACTER SKETCHES 

FOR 

BOYS AND GIRLS 

OR 

SUCCESS AND HOW TO WIN IT 

BEING A 

VAST TREASURY OF THE NOBLEST TRUTHS AND WISEST MAXIMS 

FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND SELF-IMPROVEMENT OF 

THE YOUNG; SHOWII^G THE TRUE AIMS 

AND OBJECTS OF LIFE 

TOGETHER WITH A 

GALLERY OF PORTRAITS AND BIOGRAPHIES OF SUCCESSFUL 
MEN AND WOMEN 

A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON HOW TO BUILD CHARACTER 
AND WHOM TO EMULATE 

BY Henry Davenport Northrop 

Author of "Charming Bible Stories," "Beautiful Gems of Thought aud Sentiment," etc. 



Profusely Embellished with Superb Engravings 

NATIONAL PUBLISHING CO. 

. _. .. 239, 241 AND 243 AMERICAN STREET 

rHILADELreiA, PA. 



TWO COPIES RKCEIVED, 

Library of Conere8% 
Office of tho 

JAN 6- 1900 

Register of Copyright* 



\ 






5106r 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1899, by 

J. R. JONES 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 

A)' Rights Reserved 



■CCONDCOPIC 






3 

- PREFACE. 

HOW to live thf: best, the noblest, and the happiest hfe, is the all-important 
question fully answered in this most comprehensive volume. The choicest 
stores of v/isdom, the brightest thoughts of master minds, and the most 
shining examples of the highest type of success, are gathered here for the 
instruction, the entertainment and practical benefit of both old and young. 

BOOK I. Starting Right; or, the Influence of Home. — A well-known 
author says: "It is the Home that makes the Nation." With equal truth we may 
say, it is the Home that makes the grandest men and women. Here is where ideal 
character is fashioned. And no work can possess greater value than the one that 
faithfully describes the true Home and pictures it as the sweetest type of heaven. 

The reader finds in these glowing pages a beautiful tribute to Parental Influence. 
Tike an angel of light appears the devoted mother, that uncrowned queen, of whom it 
has been truly said: " The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." 

The Force of Example is vividly portrayed. Says quaint Ben Franklin : " None 
preaches better than the ant, and she says nothing." The reader learns how true it is 
that noble examples stir us up to noble actions. This, and all the other subjects treated 
in this volume, are so forcibly presented and so strikingly illustrated that the work 
has an irresistible charm to every reader. 

It is a book that wakes up slumbering thoughts. Its sound is that of a trumpet 
and its watchword is " Onward." It inspires in the reader a noble ambition to make the 
most of himself and gain a high position in the world. By striking examples from real 
life, the force of the great truth is illustrated, that, "Just as the twig is bent, the tree's 
incUned." The all-important lessons that should be taught in the Home, the noble 
aims that should be presented, and the masterly elements that form a model character 
are stated in a manner that deeply interests the reader. The greatest names in history, 
the men and women who have achieved the most brilliant success, are here photographed 
and held up for imitation. 

BOOK II. The Cardinal Virtues. — This part of the work describes and teaches 
those Great Virtues which alone can render life happy and successful. Here is an 
eloquent tribute to Charity, the praises of which are spoken in Holy Writ and sung 
in sweetest song. Here is shown the bright side and. how essential it is to always 
look upon .it and make the best of our lot. Here Industry is preised and its 
■superb achievements portrayed. Here Honesty is shown to be the touchstone of 
■success. 

Every young person in the land should read about Truthfulness, Perseverance and 
Economy. These are virtues that no one can afford to ignore, and no one would wish 
tr> do so after reading what is here said concerning them. 

iii 



PREFACE. 



Here are brilliant illustrations of Courage — including that grand moral Courage^ 
which is the noblest type. Here the reader is taught the value of Patience, which 
waits and wins by waiting. Here Hope rises on the vision as the morning star heralds 
the coming sun. Here is an inspiring call to Self-Control. This cluster of Great Virtues 
includes Contentment, of which Robby Burns wrote so finely in the " Cotter's Saturday" 
Night." 

Here young men learn what can be accomphshed by Endurance. The Christian 
virtue of Forgiveness is pictured in the most attractive colors, and in company with it is 
the sister virtue of Gratitude, The brightest examples of Self-Sacrifice are gathered 
from the most glowing pages of history. Heroism in Well-Doing begets a desire in 
every breast to perform noble deeds. Temperance and Good Health are set forth 
according to their merits. 

Special attention is called to the very practical Rules for Bodily Exercise and the 
preservation of Health. These are fully illustrated, and this part of the volume is a. 
complete handbook of athletic exercises for both sexes. 



CONTENTS. 



BOOK I. 
STARTING RIGHT; OR, THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGI 

"Just as the Twig is Bent the Tree 's Inclined " I't 

CHAPTER II. 
The Force of Example 3S 



CHAPTER III. 
The Best Capital is Character 



CHAPTER IV. 
Make the Best of Yourself . . . 



CHAPTER V. 
The Royal Road to Success . . 



CHAPTER VI. 
The School of Everyday Life 109 



CHAPTER VII. 
The Path of Duty 127 



CHAPTER VIII. 
Be Ri/ht, then Go Ahead ........ 143 



BOOK 11. 

THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



CHAPTER IX. 

PAGE 

"TheGreatestof These is Charity" . . . . 157 

CHAPTER X. 
Looking on the Bright Side 179 



CHAPTER XL 



Industry 



Honesty 



CHAPTER XIL 



CHAPTER XIIL 

PAGE 

Truthfulness 225 



CHAPTER XIV. 
Perseverance . 243 



CHAPTER XV. 
Economy . . 25? 



CHAPTKR XVI. 

Courage 271 

V 



CHAPTER XVII. 



CHAPTER XVril. 



Hope 



CHAPTER XIX. 



Sympathy 



CHAPTER XX. 



CHAPTER XXL 



Contentment . 



CHAPTER XXII. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



Forgiveness 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

. 285 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



Gratitude 379 



CHAPTER XXV. 
Self-Sacrifice 391 



CHAPTER XXVI. 
Decision 403 



CHAPTER XXVII. 
Heroism in Well-Doing 413 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



Temperance 



CHAPTER XXIX. 
Good Health 449 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



"Just as the Twig is Bent the Tree's Inclined " 16 
"The Cheerful Home Presents its Smiling Face ' ' 19 

Grafting the Young Tree 23 

" Home is a Shelter from the Wintry Blast " .29 
"The Mother is the Child's Playmate" ... 35 

The Force of Example 40 

To the Dear Ones at Home 44 

Milton Dictating Paradise Lost 48 

The Harvest Sheaf 62 

John Pounds in his Workshop 56 

The Best Capital is Character 61 

" Work Morn and Eve and Through the Sultry 

Noon, 
And Songs of Joy will Hail the Harvest Moon " 65 

Make the Best of Yourself 76 

Make Haste 78 

The Beauties of Autumn 85 

Royal Road to Success 88 

The Sower 91 

Footprints in the Sand 97 

The Soldier's Dream 101 

The Royal Road 105 

Manual Training School 108 

Grandmother's Thoughts 115 

" No Night so Dark, no Day so Drear, 

But we may Sing our Song of Cheer " . . .121 

The Path of Duty 126 

Be a Hero 132 

The Blind Man's Dutiful Child 138 

Be Sure You are Right, then Go Ahead . . .142 
Catharine of Aragon Facing Her Accusers , . 149 

Charity 156 

" Peace on Earth, Good-will to Men " . . . .160 

Waiting for " Mother " 166 

God is Dove 272 

The Welcome Return 378 

A Recipe for Summer 181 

A Song to Cheer 185 

Merry Christmas 191 

Industry and Idleness 196 

Honesty 212 

The First Wrong Act 218 

King Canute Trying to Sweep Back the Ocean . 224 
" No Virtue of More Noble Worth, 

Than Truth, from Heaven Brought to Earth " 227 
vii 



PAGB 

The Authorities of Salem Making a Charge of 

Witchcraft 235 

Perseverance 242 

Teaching the Young Economy 256 

The Fruit Seller Counting her Money . . . .261 

Courage 272 

Druids Inciting the Britons to Resist the Romans 276 

Patience 284 

True Patience 287 

The Last Hope 296 

King Richard Landing at Jaffa to Recover the 

Holy Land 30C 

The Sure and Steadfast Anchor 304 

A Visit of Sympathy 303 

Flowers for the Sick 313 

Self-Control 322 

Oliver Cromwell 326 

The Duke of Wellington 32-! 

Contentment 335 

Two Homes 343 

Heroic Endurance 348 

The Hardy Sailor on the Lookout 351 

Joan of Arc Before King Charles VII . . . . 357 
" I Regret that I cannot Tell him I have Forgot- 
ten Everything " 364 

The Reconciliation 371 

Base Ingratitude 378 

Hymn of Thanksgiving ......... 383 

Self-Sacrifice 390 

Is Life Worth Living? 395 

A Case of Indecision 402 

The Decisive Answer 407 

Heroism in Weil-Doing 412 

Peace and the Sword 415 

The Bivouac of the Dead ........ 426 

Nature's Btverage 422 

Thanksgiving 437 

The Man that Blows his Own Trumpet . . . 443 

Healthful Exercise 448 

Health and Beauty 451 

Health-Giving Recreation 457 

The Slaves of Fashion 461 

Thirty-three Practical Illustrations of Athletic 

Exercises 467-477 

Overcoming Difficulties 478 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Full Page Phototype Engravings 



The Beginning of Home Influence 
A Mother is a Mother Still 
H. W. Longfellow 
Edward Everett . 
J. G. Holland . 
Bret Harte . 
R. H. Stoddard . 
George Washington 
William McKinley 
Admiral George Dewey- 
Thomas A. Edison 
Prince Von Bismarck 
Napoleon Bonaparte 



William E. Gladstone 
Henry Clay 
Daniel Webster 
Henry Ward Beecher 
Frances E. Willard 
Adelina Patti 
James Whitcomb Riley 
Eugene Field 
Admiral W. S. Schley 
Harriet Beecher Stowe 
Alice Cary . 
Elizabeth Phelps Ward 



S^.s .rr'^P^ kKf^.^^ 




i'^h'J'' 




oodard 



Georo^e Washino^ton. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, the first President of the United States, 
was born in Westmoreland Connty, Va., Febrnary 22d, 1732. His 
ancestors were of the landed gentry of Northamptonshire, Eng- 
land. He received a careful home training and attended two local 
schools, but was never a classical scholar. 

When Washington was nineteen years of age the colony was 
divided into military districts, and he was given, by Governor Robert 
Dinwiddle, the position of Adjutant-General with the rank of Major, 
being the youngest officer of that rank in the colonies. He soon made 
himself conversant with military affairs. October 30th, 1753, he was 
sent by Governor Dinwiddle as commissioner to the French commander 
on the fork of the Ohio River. He performed his mission loyally, 
though it entailed great suffering and danger from both French and 
Indians. April 2d, 1754, he was made Lieutenant-Colonel, and took 
part in the disastrous campaign against the French and their Indian 
allies, which ended in the surrender of Fort Necessit}/. 

The next year we find him on General Braddock's staff, and, had 
his advice been followed, that General would probably have been spared 
the disastrous defeat which cost him his life. Washington really saved 
the remainder of the army from annihilation. In 1759 he married Mrs. 
Martha Custis, a lady of rare personal charm and solid mental endow- 
ments. He was for some time a member of the Virginia Assembly, and 
took part in the first Colonial Congress, winning golden opinions by his 
steadiness and loyal faith. 

While still a member of the Continental Congress, the battle of 
Lexington took place, April 19th, 1775, and Washington was chosen as 
the Commander-in-Chief of the forces engaged against Great Britain. 
He hurried to Boston, forced the British to evacuate that city, and from 
that time until the close of the war at Yorktown, he presented the spec- 
tacle of a commander unwearied by defeat, not elated by victory, unmoved 
by calumny, unspoiled by flattery ; at once a gentleman, a hero, a patriot, 
a Christian, and a modest man. It was only natural that Washington 
.should be called to govern the nation he had so nobly aided to create, 
and on the 30th of April, 1789, he was inaugurated as the first President 
of the United States. Washington was again chosen President and 
inaugurated Alarch 4th, 1793. He died December 14th, 1799, at 
Mt. Vernon, Virginia. 

Washington was six feet two inches high, of stately carriage and 
address. He well deserved the honors thrust upon him, and was, indeed, 
'' first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen." 



Hon. William McKinley. 

NEARLY all of the Presidents of the United States have come from 
humble life. Their fortune was in themselves, and by force of 
intellect, by industry, integrity and perseverence, they rose to the 
highest position in the gift of the nation. Perhaps there is no higher 
honor that can be conferred on any man than the Presidency of the 
United States. Whoever gains this commanding position must be 
possessed of sterling qualities. Our country has been fortunate from 
the very beginning in the men who have occupied the White House. 

Among these is William McKinley, who deserves to rank among 
the most illustrious of our statesmen who have filled the chair of the 
Chief Executive. He was born at Niles, Ohio, February 26th, 1844. 
He enlisted in the United States Army in May, 1861, as a private 
soldier in the Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and was mustered 
out as captain of the same regiment and brevet-major in September, 
1865. His career in the army was highly creditable to him, for 
although he did not rise to a high rank, he was considered an excellent 
soldier, faithful to duty and brave in danger. Yet, doubtless, no one pre- 
dicted that he would become the foremost citizen of his country. 

He was prosecuting attorney of Stark County, Ohio, 1869-71, 
displaying conspicuous ability in his chosen profession which was that 
of the law. He was elected to Congress in 1877, and in 1884 lost his 
seat by vote of the House, his seat having been contested by his oppo- 
nent. He was re-elected and sat continuously as a member of Congress 
from 1885 to March 4th, 1891. During this period he distinguished 
himself in Congress as the author of a protective tariff bill which was 
passed by Congress in 1890. All through his career in Congress he 
showed himself to be a man of marked ability, remarkably well informed, 
strong in debate, and at times surpassingly eloquent. 

He was elected Governor of his native State in 1891 and was made 
the candidate of the Republican Party for the Presidency in 1896. The 
campaign of this year was very exciting and a large vote was polled. 
Mr. McKinley was elected by a very large majority and entered upon 
his duties as President on the 4th of March, 1897. He at once showed 
that he had a masterly grasp of the political situation, was disposed to 
keep every promise made by his party, and very soon business, which 
had been in a depressed condition, began to revive. 

In 1898, war broke out between our country and Spain and the vast 
responsibilities growing out of it were borne by Mr. McKinley in a 
manner which commanded the admiration of his fellow countrymen. 




WILLIAM Mckinley 
President of the United States 



Rear-Admiral George Dewey 

THE brilliant victory of Admiral Dewey over the Spanish fleet at 
Manila made him the most famous naval commander of modern 
times. He was commander of our Asiatic squadron and on Mon- 
day, April 25th, 1898, received news of the declaration of war between 
our countr}'- and Spain. The neutrality laws would not allow him to 
remain at Hong Kong, and leaving this port on Wednesday he sailed 
for Manila, the capital of the Philippine Islands. 

Having passed the batteries and harbor defenses under cover of 
darkness, on Sunday morning. May ist, lie annihilated the Spanish 
squadron, numbering eleven vessels, and silenced and destroyed three 
batteries. On Monday he occupied the navy yard, blew up six batteries, 
cut the cable, established a blockade, and drove the Spanish forces out 
of Cavite. The next day he swept the lower bay for torpedoes. All 
this was accomplished with little damage to his fleet, and just eight 
men wounded, while immense damage was inflicted on the enemj^ both 
in the destruction of men and ships. 

Dewey showed that he possesses the rare capacity of combining 
prudence with daring. His dominant qualities are courage, manliness, 
frankness, shrewdness, and a keen sense of honor. As a naval ofiBcer 
he has allways manifested the utmost confidence in himself and this has 
inspired confidence pri' the part of others. Of Green Mountain stock, 
he started in life with a good heritage, and from the time he graduated 
from the Naval Academy in 1854 he had an honorable career. 

During the Civil War he distinguished himself for bravery on many 
occasions. He figured in the capture of New Orleans, April, 1862 ; did 
gallant service at Port Hudson, March, 1863 — running the batteries and 
capturing Fort Fisher. 

The frigate Mississippi was destroyed in the Mississippi river after 
a stubborn fight. Dewey was the last man to leave the sinking frigate 
and Admiral Porter, in commenting on this incident, said : " It is in such 
trying moments that men show of what mettle they are made, and in 
this instance the mettle was the best." 

Dewey was promoted commodore February 20th, 1896, and on 
January 3d, 1898, assigned to the command of the Asiatic squadron. 
May 7th, he was promoted Acting Rear-Admiral of the United States 
Navy by President McKinley as a reward for " highlj^ distinguished 
conduct," and Congress tendered a vote of thanks to him and his men 
by request of the President. 



^;m>-' 




REAR ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY 
The Hero cf Manila 



Thomas A. Edison. 

NO inventor has ever achieved greater distinction than Thomas A. 
Edison. He is nothing less than a phenomenon in the realm of 
science, more especially in that part of it vi^hich relates to elec- 
tricity. His discoveries have been the wonder of the age, and have 
made him famous throughout the world. 

We find him at the age often reading the histories of Gibbon and 
Hume, yet his biographers assert that he went to school only two 
months in his boyhood. Like the vast majority of those men who have 
left a deep impression upon their time, he was born in poverty and 
obscurity, being conspicuously a self-made man. His education was 
under the direction of his mother, yet at best was but superficial. 

Mr. Edison was born at Alva, Ohio, February nth, 1847. As 
soon as he was old enough to become interested in any study, he showed 
great fondness for chemistry. This indicated the bent of his mind, and 
was a prophecy that the natural sciences would be his favorite pursuit. 
While he was employed as a newsboy on a railway train, he determined 
to learn telegraphy. Here was the beginning of that remarkable career, 
and of those discoveries which, if they have not revolutionized the tele- 
graph system, have certainly promoted its efiiciency and perfected its 
instruments. While residing at Adrian, Mich., he opened a shop for 
repairing telegraph instruments and making new machinery. Subse- 
quently, at Indianapolis, he invented his automatic repeater, which was 
greatly in advance of any telegraph instrument then in existence, 
except the original one invented by Professor Morse. 

It is not too much to say that Mr. Edison's ideas have entered 
largely into all the electrical discoveries of recent time. He, or his 
assistants, prompted by his original conceptions, have contributed 
largely to all the scientific journals of the country. His inventions 
consist of improvements in the electric light and the telephone. He is 
also the inventor of the phonograph, the quadruplex and sextuplex 
transmitter, the microphone, the megaphone, the kinetoscope, the 
mimeograph, the electric pen, etc. 

In person Mr. Edison is rather tall, somewhat stocky, with smooth 
face and a youthful expression. He is capable of a great amount of 
work and has been known to spend sixty hours consecutively in his 
laboratory without sleep. He bears the title of Count, which was 
conferred upon him in Italy, in honor of his brilliant discoveries. 




THOMAS A. EDISON 



Prince Von Bismarck. 

THE dramatic career of the unique " Iron Chancellor " came to an 
end Saturday, July 30th, 1898, but he will not pass out of history 
any more than Alexander, Caesar, Peter the Great, Napoleon, 
Washington, Lincoln or Gladstone. He was born of an old noble 
family at Schonhausen, April ist, 1815, created count September i6th, 
1865, and prince, March, 187 1. He was educated at the Universities at 
Gottingen and Griefswald, spent some time in the army and subsequently 
settled down as a country gentleman. In 1845 ^^ became a member of 
the Provincial Diet of Saxony, and of the Prussian Diet, in which his 
fiery eloquence in defence of the old monarchical party distinguished 
liim. 

Though practically a Secretary of State, Bismarck always accom- 
panied his royal master to the field of battle wearing his military uni- 
form. Historians may question whether the " Iron -Chancellor " or his 
illustrious master was the real author of German unity, but Kaiser 
William I. knew that Bismarck, and not he, remodelled the map of 
Europe. He was a dauntless man. After the emperor's death and 
differences grew up between him and the boy-emperor, William II., and 
the chancellor mingled freely with the Reichstag, a messenger told him 
one day that the emperor had ordered that he should not admit to his 
home any members of that body without the emperor's consent. Bis- 
marck sent back this reply : " Tell the emperor that I allow no one to 
control my threshold." This brought a call from the emperor himself, 
who asked : " Not when I command you as your sovereign ?" The 
sturdy German then declared : " My master's authority ends at my 
wife's drawing-room." 

There is another side to this strong man's character. His love of 
home, wife, and children was a marked characteristic. Always did he 
regard himself as a providential character. Before God he was humble. 
Writing to a friend he once said : " In honest penitence I perform my 
daily task. I, the minister of this state, am a Christian, and am resolved 
so to act as to be able to justify myself before God." 

Bismarck was one of the most distinguished men of the century. 
Possessed of a towering intellect, an unbending will, a masterly grasp 
of political situations, it may with truth be said that during a large part 
of his long and brilliant career events on the Continent of Europe 
happened only by his consent. At his death Emperor William paid a 
feeling tribute to his memory and he M^as buried with imposing cere- 
monies. 




PRINCE VON BISMARCK 



Napoleon Bonaparte. 

THE great French Emperor whose military genius is the most 
dazzling of any in modern times, and whose remarkable victories 
changed the map of Europe, was born on the 15th of August, 
1769, in Corsica, a French island in the Mediterranean. He was sent 
to the military school of Brienne, 1777; became lieutenant of artillery, 
1785 ; and for his services at the siege of Toulon was appointed briga- 
dier-general of artillery, 1793. 

At this time war was breaking out on all sides. Austria, Prussia, 
England, Holland, Spain, and Russia sent armies against France. The 
French raised a million of men and bade defiance to all Europe. In 
the French army was this young lieutenant of artillery. When the 
war began he was an unknown and friendless youth, but he distin- 
guished himself in every battle and every siege, till, in a few years, the 
whole world had heard of Napoleon Bonaparte. When he was twenty- 
six years old he conquered Italy. The next year he compelled the 
Emperor of Austria to make peace. 

In 1803 Bonaparte was elected Consul of the French Republic for 
life. Two years afterward he was proclaimed Emperor by the name of 
Napoleon. He had now more power than any of the ancient kings. 
Wherever he marched his conquering armies, monarchs humbled them- 
selves before liira. He drove them from their thrones and placed his 
own brothers and chief officers there instead. 

But in 1812 the spell of his success began to be broken. He 
invaded Russia with a vast arni}^ and penetrated to the city of Moscow. 
The Russians set the city on fire. Winter was coming on and the 
French soldiers had nowhere to shelter themselves. They retreated 
toward Poland, but before they reached the frontier three-fourths of the 
army were destroyed. The Emperor fled homeward in a sledge and 
returned to Paris. He soon raised new armies and was ready to take 
the field again. But all the nations of Europe were now against him 
and he suffered disastrous defeats. Having been banished to the Island 
of Elba he remained there almost a year, but in March, 1815, he sud- 
denly landed again on the French coast and a new army sprang to their 
feet to carry his banner to victory. The nations of Europe now mus- 
tered their armies once more and Napoleon's last battle was fought at 
Waterloo on the i8th of June, 1815. There he was utterly overthrown 
and France was overthrown with him. He was banished to the Island 
of St. Helena and there died. In 1840 his remains were brought back 
to France and deposited in a splendid mausoleum erected for them. 




NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 



Hon. William E. Gladstone. 

T TILLIAM E. GLADSTONE, who Mr. Balfour, the leader of the 
WL House of Commons at the time, said was " the greatest member 
of the greatest deliberative assembly in the world," was born 
December 29th, 1809. He was of Scottish blood and English birth. 
His father lived to be eighty-seven years old, and when twenty years 
old was sent by his father to Liverpool to sell a cargo of wheat. This 
resulted in his settlement in that city, where he became a great mer- 
chant, a member of Parliament and a baronet. 

William E. Gladstone had both a distaste and seeming incapacity 
for arithmetic. When fifteen he entered Eton College and stayed six 
years, devoting his main attention to Latin and Greek. In 1827 ^^ 
entered Oxford, where he distinguished himself in oratory. On leaving 
Oxford he thought of entering the ministry, but his father dissuaded 
him. He went abroad, and on his return, in 1832, was elected to Par- 
liament as a Tory. , His first speech was in favor of slavery, and con- 
tained sentiments which he soon afterward retracted. When twenty-five 
years of age he was appointed Junior Lord of the Treasury, and six 
months later promoted to the ofG.ce of Under Secretary for the Colonies. 
Following this his party went out of power, and he devoted himself 
more closely to study, writing his first book, *' The State in its Rela- 
tions with the Church." His eyesight being unfavorably affected by 
this work he went to Rome, where met and afterward married Catherine 
Glynne, of Hawarden Castle, a woman of means and rare gifts. 

Gladstone's most wonderful triumphs in debate were in dealing 
with financial questions. In the discussions of the Home Rule bill his 
remarkable versatility dazzled the eyes of the world. His broad views 
and enthusiasm for radical progress enabled him to accomplish more 
for the oppressed of other lands than any other British statesman. As 
an orator he excelled every parliamentary leader of the Victorian age 
except John Bright, and in readiness and abundance of resources he 
was vastly his superior. Had he not been a great statesman and famous 
orator he would have been a great author. Altogether he produced 
more than sixty publications. Had he not been either of these he would 
have been a great and good man. He always found time for the exacting 
duties of religion, and was a representative of the highest type of , 
Christian character. No taint nor stain ever tarnished his public or 
private life. " The nation which possesses one such man cannot perish 
while he lives." Mr. Gladstone died on May i8th, 1898. 




HON. WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE. 



Henry Clay. 

THIS eminent American orator and statesman was born in Hanover 
County, Va., April 12th, 1777. After preparatory study of the 
law he was admitted to the bar in 1797, and speedily established 
a brilliant practice in Lexington, Ky. Commencing his political career 
in 1799, as a Democrat of the Jefferson school, Clay was elected to the 
State Legislature in 1804, and in 1806 and 1809 sat as a Senator in 
Congress, having been sent for short terms. 

In 181 1 he became a member of the House of Representatives, and 
towards the close of the year was elected its Speaker. Re-elected to the 
same position in 18 13, he resigned it in January, 1814, to proceed to 
Europe as one of the Peace Commissioners to treat with Great Britain. 
After participating in the signing of the Treaty of Ghent in December 
of that year. Clay returned home to again assume the Speakership. In 
1816 he supported the United States Bank charter; in 1821 he earn- 
estly advocated the Missouri Compromise, and in 1824 was an unsuc- 
cessful candidate for the Presidency of the Union. 

In 1825 Clay became Secretary of State; was elected United States 
Senator 1831-1837, and in 1832 accepted the Presidential candidature 
of the anti-Jackson party, only to be again defeated. In 1832-1833 he 
caused the passing of the Compromise Tariff ; supported General Har- 
rison for the Presidency in 1840 ; advocated a national banking system, 
and the distribution of the public domains among the respective States. 

In 1844 the National Whig Convention nominated him the third 
time for the Presidency, with as little success as before. He strenuously 
opposed the acquisition of Texas, and in 1848, having been again elected 
to the Senate, he there took a prominent part in effecting the Compro- 
mise of 1850, which deferred for ten years the impending struggle 
between the North and South on the question of slavery. He died at 
Washington in 1852, leaving behind him a name and fame foremost in 
the annals of American eloquence and statesmanship. 

Henry Clay was a poor boy, but he had what is better than riches 
— a thirst for knowledge, great industry and perseverance, a character 
that was incorruptible and a remarkable gift of eloquence. He was a 
self-made man and was well made, as such men are almost sure to be. 
In his brilliant career we see illustrated the high position with which 
our country rewards young men of ability, who, although poor and 
without personal influence in their favor, make the most of their oppor- 
tunities, pursue their object with enthusiasm and are resolved to conquer 
all difficulties. 




vir , , 




o^ 



Daniel Webster. 

THIS illustrious American statesmau, jurist, and orator, was born at 
Salisbury, N. H., in 1872, of respectable but comparatively humble 
parentage. After receiving his rudimentary education at Exeter 
and Boscawen academies, he entered Dartmouth College in 1797, as a 
freshman, and after graduating in 1801, entered upon the study of the 
law at Salisbury and Boston, in which latter city he was called to the 
bar in 1S05. 

In 1807 he went into practice at Portsmouth, and, after earning a 
high legal reputation, was elected by the Federal party to the lower 
house of Congress in 1813, where he opposed the war with England, 
and at once rose into prominence as an able debater. Re-elected in 
1815, he shared in the discussion of the United States Bank Charter 
and specie payment questions. Meanwhile he had risen to the highest 
rank in his profession as a constitutional lawyer, and also as a consum- 
mate leader in criminal causes. In 1820 he served as a member of the 
Convention met to revise the Constitution of Massachusetts, and in 
1822 was re-elected to Congress, where, as chairman of the Judiciary 
Committee, he rendered eminent assistance in the entire revision of the 
United States criminal code. 

In 1828, he became Senator, and in 1830, in opposing the Nullifi- 
cation doctrine advanced by South Carolina statesmen, delivered perhaps 
the most splendid outburst of patriotic oratory ever heard within the 
Congress of the American Union. In 1834 Mr. Webster became a 
prominent leader of the Whig party, and in 1841 was appointed Secre- 
tary of State under President Harrison, retaining the office during Mr. 
Tyler's chief magistracy. 

The most remarkable event of his official term was the so-called 
Ashburton Treaty with England, in settlement of the Northeast Boun- 
dary question. Re-elected to the Senate in 1844, ^^ opposed alike the 
admission of Texas into the Union and the prosecution of the war with 
Mexico, and supported Henry Clay's " Compromise Measures " of 1850 
in relation to the extension of slavery to new territories. In 1850 he 
again became Secretary of State, this time under Mr. Fillmore, and was 
unsuccessfully nominated for the Presidency in the National Whig 
Convention of 1852. He died October 24th, in the latter year. 

Webster went by the name of " the Godlike Daniel," a name given 
him on account of his commanding presence, his wonderful powers of 
mind and his marvellous eloquence, which has probabl}^ never been 
surpassed in the annals of statesmanship. 




^^^;.^ //-^^^^ 



Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. 

THIS distinguished American minister and writer, a son of Dr. Lyman 
Beecher, was born in Litchfield, Conn., on the 24th of June, 1813. 
He appears to have given in childhood but little promise of dis- 
tinction. But even while a boy he proved that, if he did not inherit 
the eloquence, he inherited at least something of the controversial 
ability of his father. A forward schoolboy among the elder scholars 
had got hold of Paine's "Age of Reason," and was flourishing largely 
among the boys with objections to the Bible. Henry privately looked 
up Watson's "Apolog3%" studied up the subject, and challenged a debate 
with the big boy, in which he came off victorious by the acclamation of 
bis schoolfellows. This occurred when he was about eleven years old. 

He manifested at this period little inclination for severe study, but 
bad conceived a passionate desire to go to sea. His father adroitly used 
this desire to induce him to commence a course of mathematics with a 
view to qualify himself to become a naval officer. He applied himself 
energetically to his new studies, " with his face to the navy, and Nelson 
as his beau ideal." But not long afterwards there occurred in that 
section of the country a religious " revival," and young Beecher, with 
many others, was powerfully impressed. The result was that the naval 
scheme was abandoned, and his thoughts were directed to the pulpit as 
his natural and proper sphere. 

After going through the preparatory studies, he entered Amherst 
College, where he graduated in 1834 ; and soon after he commenced the 
study of theology at Lane Seminary, under the direction of his father. 
He began his ministerial course at Lawrenceburg, Indiana, but removed 
soon after to Indianapolis. In 1847 ^^ became pastor of Plymouth 
Church (Congregational) in Brooklyn, where he gathered around him 
an immense congregation. He was also one of the most popular writers 
and most successful lecturers in America. His success as a public 
speaker was due not so much to what is popularly termed eloquence as 
to a flow of racy and original thought, which, though often enlivened 
with flashes of quaint humor, was not without an undercurrent of deep 
moral and spiritual earnestness. 

In 1850 Mr. Beecher published a volume of " Lectures to Young 
Men." He was one of the originators of " The Independent " (to which 
he was for nearly twenty years a prominent contributor), favored the 
Free-Soil movement in 1852, and actively supported the Republican 
party in 1856 and i860. In the Civil War he was among the most 
zealous and efiicient champions of the government. Died March 8, 1887. 




J^£...^y?yrs^ YUOeju^i^^ 



Frances E. Willard. 

IN every walk of life where it is possible for woman to display her 
talents, her success has been conspicuous. Our country has ever}^ 

reason to be proud of those members of the gentler sex who have 
commanded attention in authorship, sometimes in business, especially 
in works of reform, and whose influence has always been upon the side 
of good morals, higher education, and the development of the noblest 
womanhood. 

While our progress as a nation has been rapid and such as to draw 
the wondering attention of the world, it is not all due to soldiers or 
statesmen. Our history could not be correctl}^ written without mention 
of those women who, in the walks of private life, and frequently in 
more public spheres, have made their influence felt and have been 
leaders of thought and public opinion. 

One of our most distinguished American women is the subject of 
this sketch. No one was more widely known or universally respected. 
She possessed talents of an unusual order, a warm and earnest spirit, 
untiring energy, the ability to influence others, and seemed to be lacking 
in none of those qualities essential to successful achievement. 

Miss Willard was known throughout the country for her devotion 
to the cause of reform, especially that branch of it embraced in temper- 
ance work. She attended meetings and conventions, and lectured in 
every part of the land, and was always received with the attention due 
to her position and character and the worthy objects she sought to pro- 
mote. She was eloquent in the best sense of the term, very fluent in 
speech, possessed of unusual tact, and was heard by multitudes who 
were in the habit of affirming that they " did not care to hear a woman 
speak in public." 

It may be truthfully said that her career exhibits all those elements 
which go to make one independent, aggressive, and progressive likewise. 
Throughout her life she never thrust herself into notice, but simply 
embraced the opportunities open to her, and entered the field of useful- 
ness when she heard the call for service. She was born in Churchville^ 
N. Y., September 28th, 1839, ^^^ was educated at Milwaukee and the 
Northwestern Female College at Bvanston, 111., from which she gradu- 
ated in 1859. She became Professor of Natural Science there in 1862,. 
and was principal of Genesee Wesleyan Seminary in 1866-67. Miss 
Willard died in the early part of 1898, greatly lamented by a host of 
admirers and friends throughout the country. 




^fRANCES E. WILLARD. 



Adelina Patti. 



Adelina Patti was born at Madrid, April 9, 1843, In early youtb 
she came to America with her parents and studied music with, her 
brother-in-law, Maurice Strakosch. She first appeared in New York, 
Nov. 24, 1859, and her voice at once attracted attention. In 1861 she 
appeared in London in " La Somnambula." She took the town by 
storm and became the prime favorite of the day. Since then she has 
maintained her rank and is to-day the most popular operatic star living. 
Not only is she an unexampled vocalist, but her acting is such as would 
place her in the first rank, were she not gifted with song. 

The parts which she sings are numerous, and her " Lucia " in the 
" Bride of Lammermoor," " Violetta " and " Zerlina " are equally famed. 
It was, however, as " Rosina " in "II Barbiere de Seviglia " that she 
showed her comic powers. In 1863 she attempted the part of " Ninetta" 
in " La Gaza Ladra " and gained a signal triumph. In 1864 she sang 
*' Margherita " in Gounod's " Faust " and in 1867 "Juliet " in " Romeo 
and Juliet." In May, 1868, she was married at the Roman Catholic 
Church, Chapham, to the Marquis de Caux, but the marriage proved 
so stormy that a divorce was obtained. In the early part of 1870 Patti 
visited Russia, where she met with an enthusiastic reception, receiving 
from Alexander II. the Order of Merit, and the appointment as First 
Singer of the Imperial Court. 

Upon her return to America a few years ago she was received with 
great eclat, and sang to overflowing houses, over the whole country. 
The extortionate prices demanded for seats seemed to increase rather 
than diminish the desire to hear her, and during the few years she 
starred here she accumulated a fortune. Patti is the " Queen of Song,"' 
and no other cantatrice, with the single exception of Jenny Lind., has 
ever gained a fame so world-wide and a popularity so universal. 




ADELINA PATTJ. 



James Whitcomb Riley. 



ANEW generation of writers has come forward, with characteristics 
widely different from those of their predecessors in the field of 
literature. Their writings are more distinctively American — 
perhaps it would be more appropriate to say — West-American. There 
is a breeziness about them — an off-hand dash — a disregard of conven- 
tionalities which we do not discover among such men as Irving, Bryant, 
Longfellow and others, who may be said to have created our literature 
and stamped it with their genius. Both fiction and poetry have taken 
on what may be called a new style. The aim to entertain, to present 
the humorous side of things, to make a quick, even though superficial 
impression, is very apparent. 

It would be unjust, however, to deny unusual merit to the new 
class of authors. They are splendidly endowed. To brilliant native 
talent many of them add great industry, a profound knowledge of 
human nature, and of what is demanded by the popular taste. 

James Whitcomb Riley has been given the title of the " Hoosier 
Poet of America." This is partly owing to the State in which he was 
born and lives. He has been a contributor for some years to current 
literature, showing in his writings so much of pith and pungency, 
together with a healthful moral tone, that his productions have been 
widely read and enjoyed. 

He was born in Greenfield, Indiana, in 1852. In his boyhood he 
often accompanied his father, who was an attorney, as he went from 
place to place transacting his business, and thus early came into con- 
tact with the world, which has so much to do with the education and 
development of the young mind. 

For a time he was connected with a theatrical troupe, and showed 
some aptitude for revising and adapting plays. He also began to show 
a talent for song-writing and improvising lines on the spur of the 
moment, thus indicating that he had a ready wit, and not merely the 
kind which is studied up and manufactured for the occasion. 

Over the name of " Benjamin F. Johnson, of Boone," he began, 
about the year 1875, to contribute verses in the Hoosier dialect to the 
Indianapolis papers. These attracted considerable attention, suggesting 
an interesting field of literature, which he resolved, sooner or later, to 
occupy. It was evident that dialect poems were relished by the public, 
and as these were written upon subjects near at hand, and such as 
appealed to the popular heart, Mr. Riley found himself growing in 
favor, and from that day has continued in active literary work. 




JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. 



Eucrene Field. 



■55 



ON the fourth day of November, 1895, there was many a sad home in 
the city of Chicago and throughout America. It was on that day 
that Eugene Field, the most congenial friend young children ever 
had among the literary men of America, died at the early age of forty- 
five. The expressions of regard and regret called out on all sides by 
this untimely death, made it clear that the character in which the public 
at large knew and loved Mr. Field best was that of the *' Poet of Child 
Life." What gives his poems their unequaled hold on the popular 
heart is their simplicity, warmth and genuineness. This quality they 
owe to the fact that Mr. Field almost lived in the closest and fondest 
intimacy with children. He had troops of them for his friends and it 
is said he wrote his child-poems directly under their suggestions and 
inspiration. 

His association with his fellow-workers was equally congenial. No 
man who had ever known him felt the slightest hesitancy in approaching 
him. He had the happy faculty of making them always feel welcome. 
It was a common happening in the Chicago newspaper office for some 
tramp of a fellow, who had known him in the days gone by, to walk 
boldly in and blurt out, as if confident in the power of the name he 
spoke — " Is 'Gene Field here ? I knew 'Gene Field in Denver, or I 
worked with 'Gene Field on the ' Kansas City Times.' " These were 
sufficient passwords and never failed to call forth the cheery voice from 
Field's room — "That's all right, show him in here, he's a friend of mine." 

Eugene Field was born in St, Louis, Missouri, September 2d, 1850. 
Part of his early life was passed in Vermont and Massachusetts. He 
was educated in a university in Missouri. From 1873 to 1883 he was 
connected with various newspapers in Missouri and Colorado. He joined 
the staff of the Chicago "Daily News" in 1883 and removed to Chicago, 
where he continued to reside until his death, twelve years later. Of Mr. 
Field's books, "The Denver Tribune Primer" was issued in 1882; 
" Culture Garden " (1887) ; " Little Book of Western Friends " (1889) ; 
and " Little Book of Profitable Tales " (1889). 

Mr. Field was not only a writer of child verses, but wrote some 
first-class Western dialectic verse, did some translating, was an excellent 
newspaper correspondent, and a critic of no mean ability ; but he was 
too kind-hearted and liberal to chastise a brother severely who did not 
come up to the highest literary standard. He was a hard worker, con- 
tributing daily, during his later years, from one to three columns to the 
"Chicago News," besides writing more or less for the " Syndicate Press" 
and various periodicals. 




EUGENE FIEED. 



Rear-Acimiral VV. S. Schley. 

W INFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY, whose name will be identified witli 
the great naval victory of Santiago, is the lineal descendant of 
a sturdy German schoolmaster who emigrated to Maryland in 
the year 1735. The Rev. Edward Huber says : 

" Perhaps few members of the Schley family even know that the 
destroyer of Cervera's fleet at Santiago is the direct descendant of a 
humble but vigorous German schoolmaster. His name was Thomas 
Schley, and he arrived in the spring of the year 1735 at Annapolis, 
Maryland, in charge of a party of emigrants from the Palatinate and 
Switzerland. Altogether, there were about one hundred families. They 
settled on both banks of Carroll creek, three miles from Monocacy river, 
on an extensive piece of land owned by Daniel Dulaney, of Annapolis. 
The emigrants could boast of but little wealth, but plenty of muscle, 
thrift and Teutonic energy.'' 

Admiral Schley rose step by step to the high position of Admiral 
in our navy. He acted on the principle that merit wins. In response 
to a telegram congratulating him on the destruction of Cervera's fleet 
he wrote : " Victory belongs to every officer and man of the fleet." When 
the Spanish Admiral was taken on board the Iowa and was conversing 
with Captain Evans and Schley in the cabin, with tears in his eyes he 
said : " My career is ended. I shall go back to Spain and be killed or die 
in disgrace." Admiral Schley put out his hand and rested it on Cervera's 
shoulder, and in perfect Spanish said : "Admiral you are a brave man, 
and coming out as you did in the face of a superior force is but an 
exemplification of that bravery. Your countrj^ can but do you honor." 
Admiral Cervera threw his arms around the Admiral and said : "Ah, 
sailors are always gentlemen." 

Admiral Schley was born in a little place called Richfield, near 
Frederick, Maryland. In 1863 he married Miss Rebecca Franklin, 
being then twenty-three years old. He graduated from the Naval 
Academy at Annapolis in i860. 

Probably no naval officer in the world has had such varied experi- 
ence of so many kinds, in war and peace, as Admiral Schley. Briefly, 
it is this : In 1861-65, active service in the Civil War ; 1865, suppressed 
a riot of 400 Chinamen on one of the Chincha Islands, also landed in 
La Union, San Salvador, because of an insurrection, and took possession 
of the Custom-House to protect American interests ; 18S4, rescued 
Greely, the Artie explorer; 1890, took Ericsson's body to Sweden; 
July 3d, 1898, destroyed Cervera's fleet near Santiago. 




PHUPsm/fg 



STARTING RIGHT 

OR 

THE INFLUENCE OF HOME 



CHAPTER I. 
"JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED." 




f NLY the right kind of a home 
can furnish the right start in 
the world. From a good seed 
and good soil grows a good 
tree, and even good seed 
cannot thrive well in a poor 
soil. Says the well-known 
author, J. G. Holland, "Any feeling that 
takes a man away from his home is a traitor 
to the household." Home is the first and 
most important school of character. It is 
there that every human being receives his 
best moral training, or his worst ; for it is 
there that he imbibes those principles of 
conduct which endure through manhood, 
and cease only with life. 

It is a common saying that " Manners 
make the man ; " and there is a second, that 
" Mind makes the man ; " but truer than 
either is a third, that " Home makes the 
man." For the home-training includes not 
only manners and mind, but character. It is 
mainly in the home that the heart is opened, 
the habits are formed, the intellect is awakened, 
and character moulded for good or for evil. 

From that source, be it pure or impure, 
issue the principles and maxims that govern 
society. The tiniest bits of opinion sown in 
the minds of children in private life afterwards 
issue forth to the world, and become its pub- 



lic opinion ; for Nations are gathered out oi 
nurseries, and they who hold the leading- 
strings of children are rulers. 

The Star of Home. 

I remember the days when my spirit would turn 

From the fairest of scenes and the sweetest of song. 
When the hearth of the stranger seemed coldly to 
burn, 

And the moments of pleasure for me were too long , 
For one name and oneforni shone in glory and light. 

And lured back from all that might tempt me to 
roam, 
The festal was joyous, but was not so bright 

As the smile of a mother, the star of my home. 

The sharpest of pain, and the saddest of woes, 

The darkest, the deepest of shadows might come ; 
Yet each wound had its balm, while my soul could 
repose 
On the heart of a mother, the star of my home, 
Eliza Cook, 

It is in the order of nature that domestic 
life should be preparatory to social, and that 
the mind and character should first be formed 
in the home. There the individuals who 
afterwards form society are dealt with in 
detail, and fashioned one by one. From the 
family they enter life, and advance from boy- 
hood to citizenship. Thus the home maybe 
regarded as the most influential school of 
civilization. For, after all, civilization mainly 

17 



IS 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



resolves itself into a question of individual 
training; and according as the respective 
members of society are well or ill trained in 
youth, so will the community which they 
constitute be more or less benefited and 
elevated. 

The training of any man, even the wisest, 
cannot fail to be powerfully influenced by the 
moral surroundings of his early years. He 
comes into the world helpless, and absolutely 
dependent upon those about him for nurture 
and culture. From the very first breath that 
he draws, his education begins. When a 
mother once asked a clergyman when she 
should begin the education of her child, then 
four years old, he replied : " Madam, if you 
have not begun already, you have lost those 
four years. From the first smile that gleams 
upon an infant's cheek, your opportunity 
begins." 

An Arabian Proverb. 

But even in this case the education had 
already begun ; for the child learns by simple 
imitation, without effort, almost through the 
pores of the skin. "A fig-tree looking on a 
fig-tree becometh fruitful," says the Arabian 
proverb. And so it is with the children ; 
their first great instructor is example. 

However apparently trivial the influences 
which contribute to form the character of the 
child, they endure through life. The child's 
character is the nucleus of the man's ; all 
after-education is merely what is added ; the 
form of the crystal remains the same. Thus 
the saying of the poet holds true in a large 
degree, " The child is father of the man ; " 
or, as Milton puts it, " The childhood shows 
the man, as morning shows the day." 

Those impulses to conduct which last the 
longest and are rooted the deepest, always 
I'lve their origin near our birth. It is then 
i....t the germs of virtues or vices, of feelings 



or sentiments, are first implanted which deter- 
mine the character for life. 

The child is, as it were, laid at the gate of 
a new world, and opens his eyes upon things 
all of which are full of novelty and wonder- 
ment. At first it is enough for him to gaze ; 
but by-and-by he begins to think, to observe, 
to compare, to learn, to store up impressions 
and ideas ; and under wise guidance the 
progress which he makes is really wonderful. 
Lord Brougham has observed that between 
the ages of eighteen and thirty months, 
a child learns more of the material world, of 
his own powers, of the nature of other bodies^ 
and even of his own mind and other minds, 
than he acquires in all the rest of his life. 

The Mother's Influence. 

It is in childhood that the mind is most 
open to impressions, and ready to be kindled 
by the first spark that falls into it. Ideas are 
then caught quickly and live lastingly. Thus 
Scott is said to have received his first bent 
towards ballad literature from his mother 
and grandmother's recitations in his hearing 
long before he himself had learned to read. 
Childhood is like a mirror, which reflects in 
after-life the images first presented to it. The 
first thing continues forever with the child. 
The first joy, the first sorrow, the first success, 
the first failure, the first achievement, the 
first misadventure, paint the foreground of 
his life. 

All this while, too, the training of the 
character is in progress — of the temper, the 
will, and the habits — on which so much 
of the happiness of human beings in after-life 
depends. Although man is endowed with a 
certain self-acting, self-helping power of con- 
tributing to his own development, independent 
of surrounding circumstances, and of reacting 
upon the life around him, the bias given to 
his moral character in early life is of immense 




'THE CHEERFUL HOME PRESENTS ITS SMILING FACE. 



Thomas Campbell. 



19 



20 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



imp>>rtance, and goes far toward shaping his 
whole future course. 

Place even the highest-minded philosopher 
in the midst of daily discomfort, immorality 
and vileness, and he will insensibly gravitate 
towards brutality. How much more sus- 
ceptible is the impressionable and helpless 
child amidst such surroundings ! It is not 
possible to rear a kindly nature, sensitive to 
evil, pure in mind and heart, amidst coarse- 
ness, discomfort and impurity. 

How true it is that home is the one place 
we never forget ; the memory of it lives as 
long as we do. 

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow it there, 
Which, go through the world, you'll not meet with 
elsewhere. 

Home, home, sweet home ! 

There's no place like home. 

An exile from home, pleasure dazzles in vain ; 
Ah ! give me my lowly thatched cottage again, 
The birds singing sweetly that come to my call ; 
Oh, give me sweet peace of mind, dearer than all ! 

Home, sweet, sweet home ! 

There's no place like home. 

John Howard Payne. 

There is music in the word home. To the 
old it brings a bewitching strain from the 
harp of memory ; to the young it is a 
reminder of all that is near and dear to them. 
Among the many songs we are wont to 
listen to, there is not one more cherished 
than this touching melody of " Home, Sweet 
Home." 

"What a Song of Home Did. 
Passing through the splendid thorough- 
fares of Paris one night was an Englishman, 
who had left his home and native land to 
view the splendors and enjoy the pleasures 
of a foreign country. He had beheld with 
delight its paintings, its sculpture, and the 



grand yet graceful proportions of its build- 
ings, and had yielded to the spell of the 
sweetest muse. Yet, in the midst of its 
keenest happiness, when he was rejoicing 
most over the privileges he possessed, tempta- 
tions assailed him. Sin was presented to him 
in one of its most bewitching garbs. He 
drank wildly and deeply of the intoxicating 
cup, and his draught brought madness. 
Reason was overwhelmed, and he rushed 
out, all his scruples overcome, careless of 
what he did or how deeply he became 
immersed in the hitherto unknown sea of 
guilt. 

He Listened Intently. 

The cool night air lifted the damp locks 
from his heated brow, and swept with sooth- 
ing touch over his flushed cheeks. Walking 
on, calmer, but no less determined, strainsof 
music from a distance met his ear. Follow- 
ing in the direction the sound indicated, he 
at length distinguished the words and air. 
The song was well remembered. It was 
" Home, Sweet Home." Clear and sweet 
the voice of some English singer rose and 
fell on the air, in the soft cadences of that 
beloved melody. 

Motionless, the wanderer listened till the 
last note floated away and he could hear 
nothing but the ceaseless murmur of a great 
city. Then he turned slowly, with no feeling 
that his manhood was shamed by the tear 
which fell as a bright evidence of the power 
of song. 

The demon that dwells in the wine had 
fled ; and reason once more asserted her 
right to control. As the soft strains of 
" Sweet Home " had floated to his ear, mem- 
ory brought up before him his own " sweet 
home." He saw his gentle mother, and 
heard her speak, while honest pride beamed 
from her eye, of her son, in whose nobleness 



"JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED." 



21 



and honor she could always trust ; and his 
heart smote him as he thought how little he 
de erved such confidence. He remembered 
her last words of love and counsel, and the 
tearful farewell of all those dear ones who 
gladdened that far-away home with their 
presence. Well he knew their pride in his 
integrity, and the tide of remorse swept over 
his spirit as he felt what their sorrow would 
be could they have seen him an hour before. 
Subdued and repentant, he retraced his steps, 
and with this vow never to taste of the ter- 
rible draught that could so excite him to 
madness was mingled a deep sense of thank- 
fulness for his escape from further degradation. 
The influence of home had protected him, 
though the sea rolled between. 

A Cheerful Home. 

None can tell how often the commission 
of crime is prevented by such memories. 
If, then, the spell of home is so powerful, 
how important it is to make it pleasant and 
lovable i Many a time a cheerful home and 
smiling face do more to make good men and 
. women, than all the learning and eloquence 
that can be used. 

It has been said that the sweetest words 
in our language are " Mother, Home and 
Heaven;" and one might almost say the 
word home included them all ; for who can 
think of home without remembering the 
gentle mother who sanctified it by her pres- 
ence ? And is not home the dearest name 
for heaven ? We think of that better land 
as a home where brightness will never end 
in , night. Oh, then, may our homes on 
earth be the centers of all our joys ; may 
they be as green spots in the desert, to which 
we can retire when weary of the cares and 
perplexities of life, and drink the clear waters 
of a love which we know to be sincere and 
always unfailing. 



Sweet is the smile of home ; the mutual look 
Where hearts are of each other sure ; 

Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook, 
The haunt of all affections pure. 

John Keble. 

Thus homes, which are the nurseries of 
children who grow up into men and women, 
will be good or bad according to the power 
that governs them. Where the spirit of love 
and duty pervades the home — where head 
and heart bear rule wisely there — where the 
daily life is honest and virtuous — where the 
government is sensible, kind, and loving, 
then may we expect from such a home an 
issue of healthy, useful, and happy beings, 
capable, as they gain the requisite strength, 
of following the footsteps of their parents, of 
walking uprightly, governing themselves 
wisely, and contributing to the welfare of 
those about them. 

Children are Imitators. 

On the other hand, surrounded by igno- 
rance, coarseness, and selfishness, they 
will unconsciously assume the same char- 
acter, and grow up to adult years rude, 
uncultivated, and all the more dangerous to 
society if placed amidst the manifold temp- 
tations of what is called civilized life. " Give 
your child to be educated by a slave," said 
an ancient Greek, " and, instead of one slave, 
you will then have tv/o." 

The child cannot help imitating what he 
sees. Every thing is to him a model — of 
manner, of gesture, of speech, of habit, of 
character. "For the child," says Richter, 
"the most important era of life is that of 
childhood, when he begins to color and 
mould himself by companionship with others. 
Every new educator effects less than his pre- 
decessor ; until at last, if we regard all life 
as an educational institution, a circumnaviga- 
tor of the world is less influenced by all the 



22 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



nations he has seen than by his nurse." 
Models are, therefore, of great importance 
in moulding the nature of the child ; and if 
we would have fine characters, we must 
necessarily present before them fine models. 
Now, the model most constantly before every 
child's eye is the mother. 

Thieves Cannot Teach Honesty. 

One good mother, said George Herbert, is 
worth a hundred school-masters. In the 
home she is "loadstone to all hearts, and 
loadstar to all eyes." Imitation of her is 
constant, and example is far more than pre- 
cept. It is instruction in action. It is teach- 
ing without words, often exemplifying more 
than tongue can teach. In the face of bad 
example, the best of precepts are of but 
little avail. The example is followed, not the 
precepts. Indeed, precept at variance with 
practice is worse than useless, inasmuch as it 
only serves to teach the most cowardly of 
vices — hypocrisy. Even children are judges 
of consistency, and the lessons of the parent 
who says one thing and does the opposite, 
are quickly seen through. The teaching of 
the friar was not worth much who preached 
the virtue of honesty with a stolen goose in 
his sleeve. 

By imitation of acts, the character be- 
comes slowly and imperceptibly, but at 
length decidedly formed. The several acts 
may seem in themselves trivial ; but so are 
the continuous acts of daily life. Like snow- 
flakes, they fall unperceived ; each flake 
added to the pile produces no sensible 
change, and yet the accumulation of snow- 
flakes makes the avalanche. So do repeated 
acts, one following another, at length become 
consolidated in habit, determine the action of 
the human being for good or for evil, and, in 
a word, form the character. 

It is becau.'-^e the mother, far more than 



the father, influences the action and conduct 
of the child, that her good example is of so 
much greater importance in the home. It 
is easy to understand how this should be so. 
The home is the woman's domain — her 
kingdom, where she exercises entire control. 
Her power over the little subjects she rules, 
there is absolute. They look up to her for 
everything. She is the example and model 
constantly before their eyes, whom they 
unconsciously observe and imitate. 

Letters Cut in the Bark. 

Cowley, speaking of the influence of early 
example, and ideas early implanted in the 
mind, compares them to letters cut in the 
bark of a young tree, which grow and widert 
with age. The impressions then made, how- 
soever slight they may seem, are never 
effaced. The ideas then implanted in the 
mind are like seeds dropped into the ground, 
which lie there and germinate for a time, 
afterwards springing up in acts and thoughts 
and habits. Thus the mother lives again i;i 
her children. They unconsciously mouIJ! 
themselves after her manner, her speech, her. 
conduct, and her method of life. Her habi:s: 
become theirs ; and her character is \isibly 
repeated in them. 

This maternal love is the visible provi- 
dence of our race. Its influence is constLint 
and universal. It begins with the educitioa 
of the human being at the outstart of hfc,, 
and is prolonged by \irtue of the powerful 
influence which every good mother exercise- 
over her children through life. Whcit 
launched into the world, each to take p ut in. 
its labors, anxieties and trials, they sir,! tu n 
to their mother for consolation, if not f j; 
counsel, in their time of trouble and diffi 
culty. The pure and good thoughts she has 
implanted in their minds when children con- 
tinue to grow up into good act.', long after 




GRAFTING THg YOUNG TRBE. 



24 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



slhe is dead ; and when there is nothing but 
a memory of her left, her children rise up 
and call her blessed; 

It is not saying too much to aver that the 
happiness or misery, the enlightenment or 
ignorance, the civilization or barbarism of 
the world, depends in a very high degree 
upon the exercise of woman's power within 
her special kingdom of home. Indeed, 
Emerson says, broadly and truly, that " a 
sufficient measure of civilization is the influ- 
ence of good women." Posterity may be 
said to lie before us in the person of the 
child in the mother's lap. What that child 
will eventually become, mainly depends 
upon the training and example which he has 
received from his first and most influential 
educator. 

Woman, above all other educators, edu- 
cates through the affections. Man is the 
brain, but woman is the heart of humanity ; 
he its judgment, she its feeling; he its 
strength, she its grace, ornament and solace. 
Even the understanding of the best woman 
seems to work mainly through her affections. 
And thus, though man may direct the intel- 
lect, woman cultivates the feelings, which 
mainly determine the character. While he 
fills the memory, she occupies the heart. 
She makes us love what he can only make 
us believe, and it is chiefly through her that 
we are enabled to arrive at virtue. 

Boyhood of Augustine. 

The respective influences of the father 
and the mother on the training and develop- 
ment of character are remarkably illustrated 
in the life of St. Augustine. While Augus- 
tine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste, 
proud of his son's abilities, endeavored to 
furnish his mind with the highest learning of 
the schools, and was extolled by his neigh- 
bors for the sacrifices he made for that 



object, " beyond the ability of his means " — 
his mother, Monica, on the other hand, 
sought to lead her son's mind in the direc- 
tion of the highest good, and with pious care 
counselled him, entreated him, advised him 
to chastity, and, amidst much anguish and 
tribulation, because of his wicked life, never 
ceased to pray for him until her prayers 
were heard and answered. 

Thus her love at last triumphed, and the 
patience and goodness of the mother were 
rewarded, not only by the conversion of her 
gifted son, but also of her husband. Later 
in hfe, and after her husband's death, Monica, 
drawn by her affection, followed her son to 
Milan, to watch over him ; and there she 
died, when he Avas in his thirty-third year. 
But it was in the earlier period of his Hfe that 
her example and instruction made the deepest 
impression upon his mind, and determined 
his future character. 

First Impressions the Most Lasting. 

There are many similar instances of early 
impressions made upon a child's mind, 
springing up into good acts late in life, after 
an intervening period of selfishness and vice. 
Parents may do all that they can to develop 
an upright and virtuou.s character in their 
children, and apparently in vain. It seems 
like bread cast upon the waters and lost. 
And yet sometimes it happens that long 
after the parents have gone to their rest — it 
may be twenty years or more — the good 
precept, the good example set before their 
sons and daughters in childhood, at length 
springs up and bears fruit. 

One of the most remarkable of such in- 
stances was that of the Rev. John Newton, 
of Olney, the friend of Cowper, the poet. 
It was long subsequent to the death of both 
his parents, and after leading a vicious life 
as a youth and as a seaman, that he became 



JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED. 



25 



suddenly awakened to a sense of his de- 
pravity; and then it was that the lessons 
-which his mother had given him when a 
child sprang up vividly in his memory. Her 
voice came to him as it were from the dead, 
and led him gently back to virtue and good- 
ness. 

John Randolph's Mother. 

Another instance is that of John Randolph^ 
our American statesman, who once said : " I 
should have been an atheist if it had not 
been for one recollection — and that was the 
memory of the time when my departed 
mother used to take my little hand in hers, 
and cause me on my knees to say, 'Our 
Father who art in heaven ! ' " As the 
character is biased in early life, so it 
generally remains, gradually assuming its 
permanent form as manhood is reached. 
" Live as long as you may," said Southey, 
■" the first twenty years are the longest half 
■of your life," and they are by far the most 
pregnant in consequences. 

The poorest dwelling, presided over by a 
-virtuous, thrifty, cheerful, and cleanly woman, 
may thus be the abode of comfort, virtue, 
and happiness; it may be the scene of every 
ennobling relation in family life; it may be 
■endeared to a man by many delightful asso- 
ciations; furnishing a sanctuary for the heart, 
a refuge from the storms of life, a sweet 
resting-place after labor, a consolation in 
misfortune, a pride in prosperity, and a joy 
at all times. 

The good home is thus the best of schools, 
jiot only in youth but in age. There young 
and old best learn cheerfulness, patience, 
self control, and the spirit of service and 
of duty. Izaak Walton, speaking of George 
Herbert's mother, says she governed her 
family with judicious care, not rigidly nor 
.sourly, "but with such a sweetness and 



compliance with the recreations and plea- 
sures of youth, as did incline them to spend 
much of their time in her company, which 
was to her great content." 

There is no spot, or high or lo-w. 
Which darkness visits not at times ; 

No shelter from the reach of -fs^oe, 
In farthest lands of fairest climes. 

The tempests shake the stoutest tree, 
And every flow'ret droops in turn : 

To mourn is nature's destiny, 

And all that live must live to mourn. 

No home so happy, but that pain, 

And grief, and care, the doors -will press, 

"When love's most anxious thoughts are vain, 
More anxious firom their helplessness. 

And yet, if aught can soften grief, 

'Tis home's sweet influence ; if there be 

Relief from sorro'w, that relief 
Springs from domestic sympathy. 

The home that virtue hallo'vrs, flings 

Another bliss o'er blessedness ; 
And e'en to sorrow's children brings 

Or peace to calm, or hope to bless. 

John Bowring. 

Old Dr. Cotton was celebrated for his skill 
in treating diseases of insanity. A consid- 
erable part of his treatment is contained in 
the following lines, which are worth learning 
and always remembering : 

Dear Chloe, we will oft retire 
To our own family and fire. 

Where love our hours employs ; 
No noisy neighbor enters here, 
No intermeddling stranger near. 

To spoil our heartfelt joys. 

If solid happiness we prize, 
Within our breast this jewel lies, 

And they are fools who roam ; 
The world hath nothing to bestow — 
From our own selves our bliss must flow, 

And that dear hut, our home. 

Our portion is not large, indeed ; 

But then how little do we need. 

For nature's calls, are few ; 



26 



THE INFLUENCE ' OF HOME. 



In this the art of living lies, 
To want no more than may suffice, 
And make that little do. 

We'll therefore relish with content 
Whate'er kind Providence has sent, 

Nor aim beyond our power ; 
For, if our stock be very small, 
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all, 

Nor lose the present hour. 

To be resigned when ills betide, 
Patient when favors are denied, 

And pleased with favors given : 
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part, 
This is that incense of the heart. 

Whose fragrance smells to heaven. 

Nathaniel Cotton. 

But while homes, which are the nurseries 
of character, may be the best of schools, 
they may also be the worst. Between child- 
hood and manhood how incalculable is the 
mischief which ignorance in the home has 
the power to cause! Between the drawing 
of the first breath and the last, how vast is 
ihc moral suffering and disease occasioned 
by incompetent mothers and nurses ! Com- 
mit a child to the care of a worthless, igno- 
rant woman, and no culture in after-life will 
remedy the evil you have done. 

The Mother of Napoleon. 

Let the mother be idle, vicious, and a 
slattern ; let her home be pervaded by cavil- 
ling, petulance, and discontent, and it will 
become a dwelling of misery — a place to fly 
from, rather than to fly to ; and the children 
whose misfortune it is to be brought up there 
will be morally dwarfed and deformed — the 
cause of misery to themselves as well as to 
others. 

Napoleon Bonaparte was accustomed to 
say that "the future good or bad conduct of 
a child depended entirely on the mother." 
He himself attributed his rise in life in a 
great measure to the training of his will, his 
energy, and his self control, by his mother 



at home. " Nobody had any command over 
him," says one of his biographers, "except 
his mother, who found means, by a mixture 
of tenderness, severity, and justice, to make 
him love, respect, and obey her; from her 
he learnt the virtue of obedience." 

The Noblest Work, 

The greater part of the influence exercised! 
by women on the formation of character 
necessarily remains unknown. They ac- 
complish their best works in the quiet 
seclusion of the home and the family, by- 
sustained effort and patient perseverance in 
the path of duty. Their greatest triumphs,. 
because private and domestic, are rarely 
recorded ; and it is not often, even in the- 
biographies of distinguished men, that we 
hear of the share which their mothers have: 
had in the formation of their character, and. 
in giving them a bias towards goodness.. 
Yet are they not on that account \\athout; 
their reward. The influence they have exer- 
cised, though unrecorded, lives after them, 
and goes on propagating itself in conse- 
quences forever. 

We do not often hear of great women, a? 
we do of great men. It is of good womerii 
that we mostly hear ; and it is probable that, 
by determining the character of men and 
women for good, they are doing even greater 
work than if they were to paint great pictures, 
write great books, or compose great operas. 
"It is quite true," says a well-known author, 
"that women have written no 'Iliad,' nor 
'Hamlet,' nor 'Paradise Lost;' they have 
designed no Church of St. Peter's, composed 
no 'Messiah,' carved no 'Apollo Belvedere,' 
painted no 'Last Judgment;' they have 
invented neither algebra, nor telescopes, nor 
steam-engines; but they have done some- 
thing far greater and better than all this, for 
it is at their knees that upright and virtuous- 



JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED." 



men and women have been trained — the 
most excellent productions in the world." 

Over the exhibit of one of the States at 
the World's Fair in Chicago these words 
were written : " Her finest productions are 
her sons and daughters." Men and women, 
noble and true — may the grand race of such 
never cease in this land of ours ! 

What made Washington Great. 

George Washington was only eleven years 
of age — the eldest of five children — when his ) 
father died, leaving his mother a widow. 
She was a woman of rare excellence — full of 
resources, a good woman of business, an 
excellent manager, and possessed of much 
strength of character. She had her children 
to educate and bring up, a large household 
to govern, and extensive estates to manage, 
all of which she accomplished with complete 
success. Her good sense, assiduity, tender- 
ness, industry, and vigilance, enabled her to 
overcome every obstacle ; and, as the richest 
reward of her solicitude and toil, she had the 
happiness to see all her children come for- 
ward with a fair promise into life, filling the 
spheres allotted to them in a manner equally 
honorable to themselves, and to the parent 
who had been the only guide of their prin- 
ciples, conduct and habits. 

The biographer of Cromwell says little 
about the Protector's father, but dwells upon 
the character of his mother, whom he de- 
scribes as a woman of rare vigor and decision 
of purpose : "A woman," he says, " possessed 
of the glorious faculty of self-help when other 
a- sistance failed her; ready for the demands 
of fortune in its extremest adverse turn; of 
spirit and energy equal to her mildness and 
patience; who, with the labor of her own 
hands, gave dowries to five daughters suffi- 
cient to marry them into families as hon- 
orable but more wealthy than their own ; 



whose single pride was honesty,, and whose 
passion was love; who preserved in the 
gorgeous palace at Whitehall the simple 
tastes that distinguished her in humble life ;, 
and whose only care, amidst all her splendor,, 
was for the safety of her son in his dangerous, 
eminence." 

We have spoken of the mother of Napo- 
leon Bonaparte as a woman of great force of 
character. Not less so was the mother of 
the Duke of Wellington, whom her son. 
strikingly resembled in features, person, and! 
character ; while his father was principally 
distinguished as a musical composer and 
performer. But, strange to say, Wellington's 
mother mistook him for a dunce; and for 
some reason or other, he was not such a 
favorite as her other children, until his great 
deeds in after-life constirainediliierto. be proud 
of him. 

A Model of Excellence. 

Henry Clay, the pride and honor of his; 
country, always expressedfeelings of profound! 
affection and veneration for his mother. A 
habitual correspondence and enduring affec- 
tion subsisted between them to the last hour 
of life. Mr. Clay ever spoke of her as 
a model of maternal character and female 
excellence, and it is said that he never met 
his constituents in Woodford county, after 
her death, without some allusion to her,, 
which deeply affected both him and his audi- 
ence. And nearly the last words uttered by 
this great statesman, when he came to die,, 
were, " Mother, mother, mother." It is 
natural for us to feel that she must have becM 
a good mother, that was loved and so d i 
fully served by such a boy, and that neither 
could have been wanting in rare virtues. 

Benjamin Franklin was accustomed tO' 
refer to his mother in the tenderest tone ofi 
filial affection. His respect and affection f c 



28 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



her were manifested, among other ways, in 
frequent presents, that contributed to her 
comfort and solace in her advancing years. 
In one of his letters to her, for example, he 
sends her a moidore, a gold piece of the value 
of six dollars " towards chaise hire," said he, 
" that you may ride warm to meetings during 
the winter." In another he gives her an 
account of the growth and improvement of 
Ms son and daughter — topics which, as he 
well understood, are ever as dear to the 
grandmother as to the mother. 

A Beautiful Tribute. 

Thomas Gray, author of " Elegy in a 
Country Churchyard," was most assiduous 
in his attentions to his mother while she 
lived, and, after her death, he cherished her 
memory with sacred sorrow. Mr. Mason 
informs us that Gray seldom mentioned his 
mother without a sigh. The inscription 
■which he placed over her remains, speaks of 
her as " the careful, tender mother of many 
children, one of whom alone had the mis- 
fortune to survive her." How touching is 
this brief tribute of grateful love ! Volumes 
of eulogy could not increase our admiration 
of the gentle being to whom it was paid — 
her patient devotion, her meek endurance. 

Wherever the name and genius of Gray 
are known, there shall also his mother's 
virtues be told for a memorial of her. He 
■was buried, according to his directions, by 
the side of his mother, in the churchyard at 
Stoke. After his death her gowns and wear- 
ing apparel were' found in a trunk in his 
apartments, just as she had left them. It 
.seemed as if he could never form the resolu- 
tion to open it, in order to distribute them to 
his female relations, to whom, by his will, he 
bequeathed them. 

Amos Lawrence always spoke of his 
mother in the strongest terms of veneration 



and love, and in many letters to t Is' children 
and grandchildren, are found messages of 
affectionate regard for his mother, such as 
could have emai:'-Hted only from a heart over- 
flowing with filial gratitude. Her form, 
bending over his beo>. M silent prayer, at the 
hour of twilight, when cUe was about leaving 
him for the night, was ii**Jong the first and 
most cherished recollectio.^o cf his early 
years and his childhood's hor^'O- 

The Mother's Early Training. 

From his mother Sergeant S. Prentiss 
inherited those more gentle qualities that ever 
characterized his life — qualities that shed 
over his eloquence such bewitching sweetness, 
and gave to his social intercourse such ,an 
indescribable charm. A remarkably charac- 
teristic anecdote illustrates his filial affection. 
When on a visit, some years ago, to the 
North, but after his reputation had become 
wide-spread, a distinguished lady, of Portland, 
Me., took pains to obtain an introduction, by 
visiting the steamboat in which she learned 
he was to take his departure in a few 
moments. 

" I have wished to see you," said she to 
Mr. Prentiss, "for my heart has often con- 
gratulated the mother who has such a son." 
" Rather congratulate the son on having such 
a mother" was his instant and heartfelt reply. 
This is but one of the many instances in 
which the most distinguished men of all ages 
have been proud to refer to the early culture 
of intellect, the promptings of virtue, or the 
aspirations of piety, and to the influence of 
the mother's early training. 

General Marion was once a plodding 
young farmer, and in no way distinguished 
as superior to the young men of the neigh- 
borhood in which he lived, except for his 
devoted love and marked respect for his 
excellent mother, and exemplary honor and 




HOME IS A SHELTER FROM THE WINTRY BLAST. 



George Herbert. 



29 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



truthfulness. In these qualities he was emi- 
nent from early childhood, and they marked 
ihis character through life. We may remark, 
an this connection, that it is usual to affect 
some degree of astonishment when we read 
of men whose <after fame presents a striking 
contrast to the humility of their origin ; yet 
we must recollect that it is not ancestry and 
splendid descent, but education and circum- 
stances, which form the man. 

It is often a matter of surprise that distin- 
guished men have such inferior children, and 
that a great name is seldom perpetuated. 
The secret of this is as often evident : the 
mothers have been inferior — mere ciphers in 
the scale of existence. All the splendid 
advantages procured by wealth and the 
father's position, cannot supply this one defi- 
ciency in the mother, who gives character to 
the child. 

A Remarkable 'Woinan. 

Sam Houston's mother was an extraordi- 
nary V, Oman. She was distinguished by a 
full, rather tall and matronly form, a fine 
carriage, and an impressive and dignified 
countenance. She was gifted with intellec- 
tual and moral qualities, which elevated her, 
in a .'till more striking manner, above most 
of her sex. Her life shone with purity and 
benevolence, and yet she was nerved with a 
stern fortitude, which never gave way in the 
midst of the wild scenes that checkered 
the history of the frontier settlers. Mrs. 
Houston was left with the heavy burden of 
a numerous family. She had six sons and 
three daughters, but she was not a woman 
to succumb to misfortune, and she made 
ample provision, for one in her circumstances, 
for their future care and education. To 
bring up a large family of children in a 
proper manner is, under the most favorable 
circumstances, a great work ; and in this case 



it rises into sublimity ; for there is no finer 
instance of heroism than that of one parent, 
especially a mother, laboring for that end 
alone. The excellent woman, says Goethe, 
is she who, if her husband dies, can be a 
father to her children. 

As wife and mother, a woman is seen in 
her most sacred and dignified character; as 
such she has great influence over the char- 
acters of individuals, over the condition of 
families, and over the destinies of empires. 
It is a fact that many of our noblest pat- 
riots, our most profound scholars and our 
holiest ministers, were stimulated to their 
excellence and usefulness by those holy 
principles which they derived in early years 
from pious mothers. 

Our mothers are our earliest instructors, 
and they have an influence over us, the 
importance of which, for time and eternity, 
surpasses the power of language to describe. 

Every mother should be a Sabbath School 
teacher. Her own children should be her 
class ; and her home should be her school- 
house. Then her children will bless her for 
her tenderness and care; for her pious 
instructions, her fervent prayers and the 
holy example. 

What Ex-President Adams Said. 

When ex-President Adams was present at 
the examination of a girls' school at Boston, 
he was presented by the pupils with an 
address which deeply affected him ; and in 
acknowledging it, he took the opportunity of 
referring to the lasting influence which 
womanly training and association had exer- 
cised upon his own life and character. 

"As a child," he said, "I enj oyed perhaps 
the greatest of blessings that can be 
bestowed on man — that of a mother who 
was anxious and capable to form the char- 
acters of her children rightly. From her I 



JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED.' 



31 



derived whatever instruction (religious es- 
.especially, and moral) has pervaded a long 
life — I will not say perfectly, or as it ought 
to be; but I will say, because it is only jus- 
tice to the memory of her I revere, that in 
the course of that life, whatever imperfection 
there has been, or deviation from what she 
taught me, the fault is mine, and not hers." 

A Harsh Father. 

The Wesleys were peculiarly linked to 
their parents by natural piety, though the 
mother, rather than the father, influenced 
their minds and developed their characters. 
The father was a man of strong will, but 
•occasionally harsh and tyrannical in his 
dealings with his family. The father of the 
"Wesleys had even determined at one time to 
abandon his wife because her conscience for- 
bade her to assent to his prayers for the then 
reigning monarch, and he was only saved 
from the consequences of his rash resolve 
by the accidental death of William III. He 
displa)'ed the same overbearing disposition in 
dealing with his children; forcing his daugh- 
ter Mehetabcl to marry, against her will, a 
man whom she did not love, and who proved 
•entirely unworthy of her. 

The mother, with much strength of under- 
standing and ardent love of truth, was gentle, 
persuasive, affectionate, and simple. She was 
the teacher and cheerful companion of her 
children, who gradually became moulded by 
Iher example. It was through the bias given 
ty her to her sons* minds in religious mat- 
ters that they acquired the tendency which, 
•even in early years, drew to them the name 
of Methodists. 

In a letter to her son, Samuel Wesley, 
when a scholar at Westminster in 1709, she 
said : " I would advise you as much as pos- 
sible to throw your business into a certain 
method, by wkich means you will learn to 



improve every precious moment, and find an 
unspeakable facility in the performance of 
your respective duties." This " method " 
she went on to describe, exhorting her son 
" in all things to act upon principle ;" and the 
society which the brothers John and Charles 
afterwards founded at Oxford is supposed to 
have been in a great measure the result of her 
exhortations. 

In the case of poets, hterary men, and 
artists, the influence of the mother's feeling 
and taste has doubtless had great effect in 
directing the genius of their sons. Goethe, 
like Schiller, owed the bias of his mind and 
character to his mother, who was a woman 
of extraordinary gifts. She was full of 
joyous, flowing mother-wit, and possessed in 
a high degree the art of stimulating young 
and active minds, instructing them in the 
science of life out of the treasures of her 
abundant experience. After a lengthened 
interview with her, an enthusiastic traveller 
said, " Now do I understand how Goethe has 
become the man he is." Goethe himself 
affectionately cherished her memory. "She 
was worthy of life ! " he once said of her; 
and when he visited Frankfort, he sought 
out every individual who had been kind to 
his mother, and thanked them all. 

W^ords of a Renowned Historian. 

The French historian Michelet makes the 
following touching reference to his mother in 
the Preface to one of his most popular books, 
the subject of much imbittered controversy 
at the time at which it appeared : 

" While writing all this, I have had in my 
mind a woman whose strong and serious 
mind would not have failed to support me in 
these contentions. I lost her thirty years 
ago (I was a child then) — nevertheless, ever 
living in my memory, she follows me from 
age to age. 



32 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



"She suffered with me in my poverty, 
und was not allowed to share my better for- 
• tune. When young, I made her sad, and 
now I cannot console her. I know not even 
where her bones are: I was too poor then to 
buy earth to bury her ! 

" And yet I owe her much. I feel deeply 
that I am the son of woman. Every instant, 
in my ideas and words (not to mention my 
features and gestures), I find again my 
mother in myself. It is my mother's blood 
which gives me the sympathy I feel for by- 
gone ages, and the tender remembrance of 
all those who are now no more. 

"What return, then, could I, who am 
myself advancing towards old age, make her 
for the many things I owe her? One, for 
which she would have thanked me — this 
protest in favor of women and mothers." 

After reading such lines one cannot but 
exclaim : 

" O wondrous power, how little understood ! 

Entrusted to the mother's mind alone, 

To fashion genius, form the soul for good." 

This power has shown itself on many 
occasions, especially in times of trial and 
danger. In the glaring fire of battle, in 
camp and hospital, in the throes of death, 
itself, maternal influence has proved its 
strength, compelling the admission that, as it 
is the first thing to impress and mould a 
human being, so it is the last to leave and 
forsake him. 

An Incident of the W^ar. 

Among the very brave, uncomplaining 
fellows who were brought up from the battle 
of Fredericksburg, was a bright-eyed intelli- 
gent young man, or boy rather, of sixteen 
years. He appeared more affectionate and 
tender than his comrades, and attracted a 
good deal of attention from the attendants 



and visitors. Manifestly the pet of some 
household, he longed for nothing so much 
as the arrival of his mother, who was 
expected, for he knew he was mortally 
wounded, and failing fast. Ere she arrived, 
however, he died. 

But he thought she had come, for while 
a kind lady visitor was wiping the death- 
sweat from his brow, as his sight was failing, 
he rallied a little, like an expiring taper in its 
socket, looking up longingly and joyfully, 
and in the tenderest pathos whispered quite 
audibly, "Is that mother?" in tones that 
drew tears from every eye. Then, drawing 
her towards him with all his feeble power,, 
he nestled his head in her arms like a sleep- 
ing infant, and thus died, with the sweet 
word "mother" on his quivering lips. 

A High-Tempered Mother. 

But while a mother may greatly influence 
the poetic or artistic mind of her son for 
good, she may also influence it for evil. 
Thus the characteristics of Lord Byron — the 
waywardness of his impulses, his defiance 
of restraint, the bitterness of his hate, and 
the precipitancy of his resentments — were 
traceable in no small degree to the adverse 
influences exercised upon his mind from his 
birth by his capricious, violent, and head- 
strong mother. She even taunted her son 
with his personal deformity; and it was no 
unfrequent occurrence, in the violent quarrels 
which occurred between them, for her to 
take up the poker or tongs and hurl them 
after him as he fled from her presence. 

He grew up to be just what might have 
been expected from one who, in early life, 
was governed with a poker and pair of 
tongs. It was this unnatural treatment that 
gave a morbid turn to Byron's after-life ; and, 
care-worn, unhappy, great, and yet weak, 
as he was, he carried about with him the 



"JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED. 



33 



mother's poison which he had sucked in his 
infancy. Hence he exclaims, in his " Childe 
Harold:" 

"And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, 
My springs of life were poisoned." 

Like Mother, Like Son. 

In like manner, though in a different way, 
the character of Mrs. Foote, the actor's 
mother, was curiously repeated in the life of 
her joyous, jovial-hearted son. Though she 
had been heiress to a large fortune, she soon 
spent it all, and was at length imprisoned for 
debt. In this condition she wrote to Sam, 
who had been allowing her 500 dollars a year 
out of the proceeds of his acting: "Dear 
Sam, I am in prison for debt; come and 
assist your loving mother, E. Foote." To 
which her son characteristically replied — 
"Dear mother, so am I; which prevents his 
duty being paid to his loving mother by her 
affectionate son, Sam Foote." 

We have spoken of the mother of Wash- 
ington as an excellent woman of business; 
and to possess such a quality as capacity for 
business is not only compatible with true 
womanliness, but is in a measure essential to 
the comfort and well-being of every properly- 
governed family. Habits of business do not 
relate to trade merely, but apply to all the 
practical affairs of life — ^to everything that 
has to be arranged, to be organized, to be 
provided for, to be done. 

And in all those respects the management 
of a fannry and of a household is as much 
a matter of business as the management of a 
shop or of a counting-house. It requires 
method, accuracy, organization, industry, 
economy, discipline, tact, knowledge, and 
capacity for adapting means to ends. All 
this is of the essence of business ; and hence 
business habits are as necessary to be culti- 
3 



vated by women who would succeed in the 
affairs of home — in other words, who would 
make home happy — as by men in the affairs 
of trade, of commerce, or of manufacture. 

A Wrong Idea. 

The idea has, however, heretofore prevailed, 
that women have no concern with such mat- 
ters, and that business habits and qualifica- 
tions relate to men only. Take, for instance, 
the knowledge of figures. Mr. John Bright 
has said of boys, "Teach a boy arithmetic 
thoroughly, and he is a made man." And 
why? — Because it teaches him method, 
accuracy, value, proportions, relations. But 
how many girls are taught arithmetic well? 
If they are not so taught, what is the conse- 
quence? When the girl becomes a wife, 
if she knows nothing of figures, and is inno- 
cent of addition and multiplication, she can 
keep no record of income and expenditure, 
and there will probably be a succession of 
mistakes committed which may be prolific 
in domestic contention. The woman, not 
being up to her business — that is, the man- 
agement of her domestic affairs in conformity 
with the simple principles of arithmetic — will, 
through sheer ignorance, be apt to commit 
extravagances, though unintentional, which 
may be most injurious to her family peace 
and comfort. 

Method, which is the soul of business, is 
also of essential importance in the home. 
Work can only be got through by method. 
Muddle flies before it, and confusion becomes 
a thing unknown. Method demands punctu- 
ality, another eminently business quality- 
The unpunctual woman, like the unpunctual 
man, occasions dislike, because she consumes 
and wastes time, and provokes the reflection 
that we are not of sufficient importance to 
make her more prompt. To the business 
man, time is money; but to the business 



34 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



woman, method is more — it is peace, comfort, 
and domestic prosperity. 

"We miss success, " some persons state, 
And one can well see through it, 
For when it comes to being late 
They know just how to do it." 

Prudence is another important business 
quality in women, as in men. Prudence is 
practical wisdom, and comes of the culti- 
vated judgment. It has reference in all 
things to fitness, to propriety; judging 
wisely of the right thing to be done, and the 
right way of doing it. It calculates the 
means, order, time, and method of doing. 
Prudence learns from experience, quickened 
by knowledge. 

The Importance of Health. 

For these, among other reasons, habits of 
business are necessary to be cultivated by all 
women, in order to their being efficient 
helpers in the world's daily life and work. 
Furthermore, to direct the power of the home 
aright, women, as the nurses, trainers, and 
educators of children, need all the help and 
strength that mental culture can give them. 

Mere instinctive love is not sufficient. 
Instinct, which preserves the lower creatures, 
needs no training; but human intelligence, 
which is in constant request in a family, 
needs to be educated. The physical health 
of the rising generation is intrusted to woman 
by Providence; and it is in the physical 
nature that the moral and mental nature Hes 
enshrined. It is only by acting in accord- 
ance with the natural laws, which, before she 
can follow, woman must needs understand, 
that the blessings of health of body, and 
health of mind and morals, can be secured 
at home. Without a knowledge of such 
laws, the mother's love too often finds its 
recompense only in a child's coffin. 



It is a mere truism to say that the intel- 
lect with which woman as well as man is; 
endowed has been given for use and exer- 
cise, and not " to rust in her unused." Such 
endowments are never conferred without a 
purpose. The Creator may be lavish in his 
gifts, but he is never wasteful. 

Woman was not meant to be either an 
unthinking drudge or the merely pretty 
ornament of man's leisure. She exists for 
herself as well as for others ; and the seri- 
ous and responsible duties she is called upon, 
to perform in life require the cultivated head 
as well as the sympathizing heart. Her 
highest mission is not to be fulfilled by the 
mastery of fleeting accomplishments, on 
which so much useful time is now wasted ; 
for, though accomplishments may enhance 
the charms of youth and beauty, of them- 
selves sufficiently charming, success, after 
all, does not depend upon them. 

A Narrow View. 

It has been said that chemistry enough to> 
keep the pot boiling, and geography enough 
to know the different rooms in her house,, 
was science enough for any woman ; while 
Byron, whose sympathies for woman were of 
a very imperfect kind, professed that he 
would limit her library to a Bible and a cook^ 
book. But this view of woman's character 
and culture is absurdly narrow and unin- 
telligent. 

Speaking generally, the training and disci- 
pline that are most suitable for the one sex in 
early life are also the most suitable for the 
other; and the education and culture that fill 
the mind of the man will prove equally whole- 
some for the woman. Indeed, all the argu- 
ments which have yet been advanced in favor 
of the higher education of men plead equally 
strongly in favor of the higher education of 
women. In all the departments of home. 




'THE MOTHER IS THE CHILD'S PLAYMATE." 



35, 



36 



THE INFLUE^XE OF HOME. 



intelligence will add to woman's usefulness 
and efficiency. It will give her thought and 
forethought, enable her to anticipate and 
provide for the contingencies of life, suggest 
improved methods of management, and gi\e 
her strength in every way. 

In disciplined mental power she will find a 
stronger and safer protection against decep- 
tion and imposture than in mere innocent 
and unsuspecting ignorance ; in moral and 
religious culture she will secure sources of 
influence mere powerful and enduring than 
in physical attractions ; and in due self-reli- 
ance and self-dependence she will discover 
the truest sources of domestic comfort and 
happiness. 

Xot froiii his head was woman took, 
As made her husband lo o'erlook ; 
Not from his feet, as one designed 
The footstool of the stroug.'r kind ; 
But fashioned for himself, a Lride, 
An equal, taken from his side : 
Her place intended to maintain, 
The mate and glory of the man, 
To rest in peace beneath his arm, 
j''rotected by her lord from harm, 
Ai^d never from his heart removed, 
One only less than God beloved. 

Charles Wesley. 

The Need of Good Mothers. 

Bit while the mind and character of 
womej. ought to be cultivated with a view to 
their o\.n well-being, they ought not the less 
to be educated liberally with a view to the 
happiness of others. Men themselves can- 
net be sound in mind or morals if women 
be the reverse ; and if, as we hold to be the 
case, th:: moral condition of a people mainly 
depends u[)on the education of the home, 
ihcn l!vj education of women is to be 
regarded as a matter of national importance. 

Not only does the moral character but 
the mental strength of man find its best safe- 
guard and support in the moral purity and 



mental cultivation of woman ; but the more 
completely the powers of both are devel- 
oped, the more harmonious and well-ordered 
will society be — the more safe and certain its 
elevation and advancement. 

When the first Napoleon said that the 
great want of France was mothers, he meant, 
in other words, that the French people needed 
the education of homes, presided over by 
good, virtuous, inteUigent women. Indeed, 
the first French Revolution presented one of 
the most striking illustrations of the social 
mischiefs resulting from a neglect of the puri- 
fying influence of women. When that great 
national outbreak occurred, society was rotten 
with vice and profligacy. Morals, religion, 
virtue, were swamped by sensualism. The 
character of woman had become depraved. 
Conjugal fidelity was disregarded ; maternity 
was held in reproach ; family and home were 
alike corrupted. Domestic purity no longer 
bound society together. France was mother- 
less ; the children broke loose ; and the 
Revolution burst forth, " amidst the yells and 
the fierce violence of women." 

The influence of woman is the same every- 
where. Her condition influences the morals, 
manners, and character of the people in all 
Cv^untries. Where she is debased, society is 
debased ; where she is morally pure and 
enhg.iitened, society will be proportionately 
elevated. 

A Subject Demanding Attention. 

Hence, t-» instruct woman is to instruct 
man ; to elevate her character is to rsise 
his own ; to enlarge her mental freedom is to 
extend and secure that of the whole commu- 
nity. For nations are but the outcomes of 
homes, and peoples of mothers. 

There is, however, one special department 
of woman's work demanding the earnest 
attention of all true female reformers, *hough 



"JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED. 



37 



it is one which has hitherto been unaccount- 
ably neglected. We mean the better econom- 
izing and preparation of human food, the 
waste of Avhich at present, for want of the 
most ordinary culinary knowledge, is little 
short of scandalous. If that man is to be 
regarded as a benefactor of his species who 
makes two stalks of grain to grow where only 
one grew before, not less is she to be regarded 
as a public benefactor who economizes and 
turns to the best practical account the food- 
products of human skill and labor. 

A Fine Field for Reform. 

The improved use of even our existing 
supply would be equivalent to an immediate 
extension of the cultivable acreage of our 
country — not to speak of the increase in 
health, economy, and domestic comfort. 
Were our female reformers only to turn their 
energies in this direction with effect, they 
would earn the gratitude of all households, 
and be esteemed as among the greatest of all 
practical philanthropists. 

We cannot have the highest t>^pe of boys 
and girls in a home characterized by constant 
waste, nor, indeed, by bad cooking. Do not 
expect anything except a sour disposition 
from children fed on sour bread. Poor 
pastry and poor blood go together, and thin 
blood can never make a thick and well 
rounded character. Man is an animal, and 
must be suitably fed and nourished. It may 
seem singular to maintain that bad cooking 
and bad character go together, but it is a 
serious fact that the best Christians are they 
who have the best stomachs. To put 
dyspepsia into the flesh is to put petulance, 
sourness, despondency into the spirit. V/e 
not only want mothers who can say a prayer 
and teach a catechism ; we want mothers Avho 
can wash a baby and make a loaf of bread. 

Woman has often shown her immense 



capabilities. We cannot forget the courage 
of Lady Franklin, who persevered to the 
last, when the hopes of all others had died 
out, in prosecuting the search after the 
Franklin Expedition to the polar world. 
On the occasion of the Royal Geographical 
Society determining to award the " Founder's 
Medal" to Lady Franklin, Sir Roderick 
Murchison observed that, in the course of a 
long friendship with her, he had abundant 
opportunities of observing and testing the 
sterling qualities of a woman who had proved 
herself worthy of the admiration of mankind. 
" Nothing daunted by failure after failure, 
through twelve long years of hope deferred, 
she had persevered, with a singleness of pur- 
pose and a sincere devotion which were truly 
unparalleled. And now that her one last 
expedition of the steamer * Fox,' under the 
gallant M'Clintock, had realized the two 
great facts — that her husband had traversed 
wide seas unknown to former navigators, 
and died in discovering a northwest passage 
— then, surely, the adjudication of the medal 
would be hailed by the nation as one of the 
many recompenses to which the widow of 
the illustrious Franklin was so eminently 
entitled." 

Illustrious "Women. 

But that devotion to duty which marks 
the heroic character has more often been 
exhibited by women in deeds of charity and 
mercy. The greater part of these are never 
known, for they are done in private, out of 
the public sight, and for the mere love of 
doing good. Where fame has come to them, 
because of the success which has attended 
their labors in a more general sphere, it has 
come unsought and unexpected, and is often 
felt as a burden. Who has not heard of 
Mrs. Fry and Miss Carpenter as prison- 
visitors and reformers: of Mrs. Chisholm 



38 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



and Miss Rye as promoters of emigration ; 
of Miss Nightingale, Miss Garrett and Miss 
Clara Barton, as apostles of hospital nursing; 
and Miss Frances Willard as a world- 
renowned advocate of temperance ? 

That these women should have emerged 
from the sphere of private and domestic life 
to become leaders in philanthropy, indicates 
no small degree of moral courage on their 
part ; for to women, above all others, quiet 



and ease and retirement are most natural and 
welcome. Very few women step beyond the 
boundaries of home in search of a larger field 
of usefulness. 

We have dwelt thus long and earnestly 
upon the mother's influence, for the reason 
that if children ever get the right start, she 
must be mainly instrumental in giving it. 
" The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand 
that rocks the world." 



THE CHILDREN. 



When the lessons and tasks are all ended. 

And the school for the day is dismissed, 
And the little ones gather around me, 

To bid me good-night and be kissed ; 
Oh, the little white arms that encircle 

My neck in a tender embrace ! 
Oh, the smiles that are lialos of heaven, 

Shedding sunshine of love on my face I 

And when they are gone I sit dreaming 

Of my childhood too lovely to last ; 
Of love that my heart will remember. 

When it wakes to the pulse of the past, 
Ere the world and its wickedness made me 

A partner of sorrow and sin ; 
When the glory of God was about me. 

And the glory of gladness within. 

Oh ! my heart grows weak as a woman's. 

And the fountain of feeling will flow. 
When I think of the paths steep and stony. 

Where the feet of the dear ones must go ; 
Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them. 

Of the tempest of fate blowing wild ! 
Oh ! there is nothing on earth half so holy 

As the innocent heart of a child. 

They are idols of hearts and of households-. 

They are angels of God in disguise ; 
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, 

His glory still gleams in their eyes ; 
Oh ! these truants from home and from heaven, 

They have made me more manly and mild, 
And I know how Jesus could liken 

The kingdom of God to a child. 



I ask not a life for the dear ones, 

All radiant, as others have done. 
But that life may have enough shadow 

To temper the glare of the sun ; 
I would pray God to guard them from evil, 

But my prayer would come back to myself; 
Ah, a seraph may pray for a sinner, 

But a sinner must pray for himself. 

The twig is so easily bended, 

I have banished the rule and the rod ; 
I have taught them the goodness of knowledge. 

They have taught me the goodness of God; 
My heart is a dungeon of darkness. 

Where I shut them for breaking a rule ; 
My frown is sufficient correction ; 

My love is the law of the school. 

I shall leave the old house in the autumn, 

To traverse its threshold no more ; 
Ah, how I shall sigh for the dear ones, 

That meet me each morn at the door, 
I shall miss the " good-nights" and the kisses, 

And the gush of their innocent glee. 
The group on the green, and the flowers 

That are brought every morning to me. 

I shall miss them at morn and evening, 

Their song in the school and the street; 
I shall miss the low hum of their voices, 

And the tramp of their delicate feet. 
When the lessons and tasks are all ended, 

And death says : " The school is dismissed,' 
May the little ones gather around me, 

To bid me good-night and be kissed. 

Charles Dickerson. 



CHAPTTER II. 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 




^ HE mocking bird is one of the 
wonders of the forest. While 
he sings with a whole choir 
of birds, the ear can listen 
only to the mocker, and when 
he is in full song, a bystander 
might suppose that he hears 
all other birds in one. In his domesticated 
state, this bird whistles for the dog, and the 
■dog starts up and hurries away to meet his 
master. The mocker screams like a hurt 
chicken, and the hen flutters her drooping 
wing and bristling feathers, eager to defend 
her brood. The barking of the dog, the 
mewing of the cat, the tune taught by his 
master, the quivering notes of the canary, all 
are repeated by the mocker ; and so perfect 
is his power of imitation, that other birds are 
said to become mute beside their rival, as if 
their powers were superseded by his. 

Now, a similar principle of imitation 
operates in our homes : it is there that its 
most concentrated power appears. Affection 
and duty, precept and promise, with all that 
■can sway a young immortal, induce or even 
bind a child to imitate a parent. A silent 
influence is thus constantly put forth, of 
■which we may be as unconscious as we are 
of the beating of the heart, but which is not 
on that account less strong, and the character 
of a child is commonly just the accumulated 
result of this parental example. 

It is not more natural for some young 
animals to resort to the water, and for others 
to soar into the air, than for children to 
receive impressions through this channel. 



Such effects are photographed upon them, 
and form part of their very existence : they 
go with them to the grave, and pass with 
them into eternity, either to enhance their 
joy or deepen their sad regrets. Like the 
molten metal delivered into the mould, to 
come forth either an embodied symmetry or 
a distorted mass, the child thus receives the 
impress of the parent ; for so perfect is the 
pov/er of home, that it as really moulds or 
models us as the potter the clay upon his 
wheel. 

What Edmund Burke Says. 

Men, young and old — ^but the young 
more than the old — cannot help imitating 
those with whom they associate. It was a 
saying of George Herbert's mother, intended 
for the guidance of her sons, " that as our 
bodies take a nourishment suitable to the 
meat on which we feed, so do our souls as 
insensibly take in virtue or vice by the 
example or conversation of good or bad 
company." 

Indeed, it is impossible that association 
with those about us should not produce a 
powerful influence in the formation of 
character. For men are by nature imitators, 
and all persons are more or less impressed 
by the speech, the manners, the gait, the 
gestures, and the very habits of thinking of 
their companions. " Is example nothing ? " 
said Burke. "It is everything. Example 
is the school of mankind, and they will learn 
at no other." 

Emerson has observed that even old 




THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 



40 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



41 



couples, or persons who have been house- 
mates for a course of years, grow gradually- 
like each other ; so that, if they were to live 
long enough, we should scarcely be able to 
know them apart. But if this be true of the 
old, how much more true is it of the young, 
whose plastic natures are so much more soft 
and impressionable, and ready to take the 
stamp of the life and conversation of those 
about them ! 

"There has been," observed Sir Charles 
Bell in one of his letters, " a good deal said 
about education, but those who speak thus 
appear to me to put out of sight example, 
which is all-in-all. My best education was 
the example set me by my brothers. There 
was, in all the members of the family, a 
reliance on self, a true independence, and by 
imitation I obtained it." 

Influence of Example. 

Still shines the light of holy lives 

Like star-beams over doubt ; 
Each sainted memory, Christ-like, drives 

Some dark possession out. 

O friend ! O brother ! not in vain 

Thy life so calm and true, 
The silver dropping of the rain. 

The fall of summer dew ! 

With v^eary hand, yet steadfast will. 

In old age as in youth, 
Thy Master found thee sowing still 

The good seed of His truth. 

As on thy task-field closed the day 

In golden-skied decline. 
His angel met thee on the way, 

And lent his arm to thine. 

J. G. Whittier. 

It is in the nature of things that the cir- 
cumstances which contribute to form the 
character should exercise their principal 
influence during the period of growth. As 
years advance, example and imitation become 



custom, and gradually consolidate into habit, 
which is of so much potency that, almost 
before we know it, we have in a measure 
yielded up to it our personal fieedom. 

It is related of Plato that on one occasion 
he reproved a boy for playing at some fool- 
ish game. " Thou reprovest me," said the 
boy, " for a very little thing." " But cus- 
tom," replied Plato, " is not a little thing." 
Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such 
a tyrant that men sometimes cling to vices 
even while they curse them. They have 
become the slaves of habits whose power 
they are impotent to resist. Hence Locke 
has said that to create and maintain that 
vigor of mind which is able to contest the 
empire of habit may be regarded as one of 
the chief ends of moral discipline. 

Selecting Good Company. 

Though much of the education of char- 
acter by example is spontaneous and uncon- 
scious, the young need not necessarily be 
the passive followers or imitators of those 
about them. Their own conduct, far more 
than the conduct of their companions, tends 
to fix the purpose and form the principles of 
their life. Each possesses in himself a 
power of will and of free activity, v.'hich, if 
courageously exercised, will enable him to 
make his own individual selection of friends 
and associates. It is only through weak- 
ness of purpose that young people, as well 
as old, become the slaves of their inclina- 
tions, or give themselves up to a servile imi- 
tation of others. 

It is a common saying that men are 
known by the company they keep. Tht 
sober do not naturally associate with the 
drunken, the refined with the coarse, the 
decent with the dissolute. To associate with 
depraved persons argues a low taste and 
vicious tendencies, and to frequent their 



42 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 



society leads to inevitable degradation of 
•character. " The conversation of such per- 
sons," says Seneca, " is very injurious ; for 
even if it does no immediate harm, it leaves 
its seeds in the mind, and follows us when 
we have gone from the speakers — a plague 
sure to spring up in future resurrection." 

If young men are wisely influenced and 
■directed, and conscientiously exert their 
own free energies, they will seek the society 
■of those better than themselves, and strive 
to imitate their example. In companionship 
with the good, growing natures will always 
find their best nourishment ; while compan- 
ionship with the bad will only be fruitful in 
mischief. There are persons whom to know 
is to love, honor and admire ; and others 
whom to know is to shun and despise. Live 
with persons of elevated characters, and you 
will feel lifted and benefited by them : "Live 
Avith wolves," says the Spanish proverb, "and 
you will learn to howl." 

A Fatal Mistake. 

Intercourse with even commonplace, sel- 
fish persons, may prove most injurious, by 
inducing a dry, dull, reserved and selfish 
•condition of mind, more or less inimical to 
true manliness and breadth of character. 
The mind soon learns to run in small 
grooves, the heart grows narrow and con- 
tracted, and the moral nature becomes 
weak, irresolute and accommodating, which 
is fatal to all generous ambition or real 
excellence. 

On the other hand, association with per- 
sons wiser, better and more experienced 
than ourselves is always more or less inspir- 
ing and invigorating. They enhance our 
'own knowledge of life. We correct our 
-estimates by theirs, and become partners in 
their wisdom. We enlarge our field of ob- 
servation through their eyes, profit by their 



experience, and learn not only from what 
they have enjoyed, but — which is still more 
instructive — from what they have suffered. 
If they are stronger than ourselves, we 
become participators in their strength. And 
we should not forget that commonly the 
strongest natures are those that have suf- 
fered most. 

An old fable tells of a farmer who went 
out to plow in his fields. The plow ripped 
the roots of grasses and weeds, and they 
were terrified and pained at the work of 
destruction. " If I do not rend you in 
pieces," said the farmer, " you cannot nour- 
ish the seed soon to be sown, nor help grow 
a harvest of golden grain." 

The Fruits of Trial. 

Oh let me suffer, till I kno-w 

The good that cometh from the pain, 
Like seeds beneath the -wintry snow, 

That -wake in flo-wers and golden grain. 
Oh let me sufifer, till I find 

What plants of sorro-w can impart. 
Some gift, some triumph of the mind. 

Some flower, some fruitage of the heart. 

The hour of anguish passes by ; 

But in the spirit there remains 
The outgrowth of its agony. 

The compensation of its pains. 
In meekness, which suspects no wrong. 

In patience, -which endures control. 
In faith, which makes the spirit strong, 

In peace and purity of soul. 

Thomas C. Upham. 



What Suffering Does. 

Suffering curbs our inward passions, 
Child-like tempers in us fashions. 

And our will to God's subdues : 
Thus His hand, so soft and healing. 
Each disordered power and feeling, 

By a blessed change renews. 

Suffering keeps the thoughts compacted. 
That the soul be not distracted 

By the world's beguiling art ; 
'Tis like some angelic -warder 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



43 



Ever keeping sacred order 
In the chambers of the heart. 

Suffering tunes the heart's emotion 
To eternity's devotion, 

And awakes a fond desire 
For the land where psalms are ringing, 
And with psalms the martyrs singing 

Sweetly to the harper's choir. 

J. Hartmann. 

Not only do we learn patience and forti- 
tude from the example of those who know 
how to bear their misfortunes submissively 
and profit by them, but in other ways we are 
influenced by those around us. 

Henry Martyn's Friend. 

An entirely new direction may be given to 
the life of a young man by a happy sugges- 
tion, a timely hint, or the kindly advice of an 
honest friend. Thus the life of Henry 
Martyn, the Indian missionary, seems to 
have been singularly influenced by a friend- 
ship which he formed, when a boy, at Truro 
Grammar School. Martyn himself was of 
feeble frame, and of a delicate nervous tem- 
perament. Wanting in animal spirits, he 
took but little pleasure in school sports ; and 
being of a somewhat petulant temper, the 
bigger boys took pleasure in provoking him, 
and some of them in bullying him. One of 
the bigger boys, however, conceiving a friend- 
ship for Martyn, took him under his protec- 
tion, stood between him and his persecutors, 
and not only fought his battles for him, but 
helped him with his lessons. 

Though Martyn was rather a backward 
pupil, his father was desirous that he should 
have the advantage of a college education, 
and at the age of about fifteen he sent him to 
Oxford to try for a Corpus scholarship, in 
which he failed. He remained for two years 
more at the Truro Grammar School, and then 
went to Cambridge, where he was entered at 



St. John's College. Whom should he find 
already settled there as a student but his old 
champion of the Truro Grammar School? 
Their friendship was renewed ; and the elder 
student from that time forward acted as the 
mentor of the younger one. 

A Patient, Hard-working Fello-w. 

Martyn was fitful in his studies, excitable 
and petulant, and occasionally subject to fits 
of almost uncontrollable rage. His big 
friend, on the other hand, was a steady, 
patient, hard-working fellow ; and he never 
ceased to watch over, to guide, and to advise 
for good his irritable fellow-student. He 
kept Martyn out of the way of evil company, 
advised him to work hard, "not for the 
praise of men, but for the glory of God ; " 
and so successfully assisted him in his 
studies, that at the following Christmas 
examination he was the first of his year. 
Yet Martyn's kind friend and mentor never 
achieved any distinction himself; he passed 
away into obscurity, leading, most probably, 
a useful though an unknown career; his great- 
est wish in life having been to shape the 
character of his friend, to inspire his soul 
with the love of truth, and to prepare him 
for the noble work, on which he shortly after 
entered, of an Indian missionary. 

A somewhat similar incident is said to 
have occurred in the college career of Dr. 
Paley. When a student he was distinguished 
for his shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, 
and he was at the same time the favorite and 
the butt of his companions. Though his 
natural abilities were great, he was thought- 
less, idle, and a spendthrift ; and at the com- 
mencement of his third year he had made 
comparatively little progress. 

After one of his usual night-dissipations, a 
friend stood by his bedside on the following 
morning. " Paley," said he, " I have not 




TO THE DEAR ONES AT HOME, 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



45 



been able to sleep for thinking about you. 
I have been thinking what a fool you are ! 
/ have the means of dissipations, and can 
afford to be idle : you are poor, and cannot 
afford it. / could do nothing, probably, 
"ven were I to try : you are capable of doing 
nything. I have lain awake all night think- 
ing about your folly, and I have now come 
solemnly to warn you. Indeed, if you per- 
sist in your indolence, and go on in this 
way, I must renounce your society alto- 
gether." 

It 'Was the Making of Him. 

It is said that Paley was so powerfully 
affected by this admonition, that from that 
moment he became an altered man. He 
formed an entirely new plan of life, and dili- 
gently persevered in it. He became one of 
the most industrious of students. One by 
one he distanced his competitors, and at the 
end of the year he came out ahead. What 
he afterwards accomplished as an author and 
a divine is sufficiently well known. 

No one recognized more fully the influence 
of personal example on the young than did 
Dr. Arnold. It was the great lever with 
which he worked in striving to elevate the 
rharacter of his school. He made it his 
-principal object, first to put a right spirit into 
the leading boys by attracting their good and 
noble feelings ; and then to make them instru- 
mental in propagating the same spirit among 
the rest, by the influence of imitation, exam- 
ple, and admiration. He endeavored to make 
all feel that they were fellow-workers with 
himself, and sharers with him in the moral 
responsibility for the good government of 
the place. 

One of the first effects of this high-minded 
system of management was, that it inspired 
the boys with strength and self-respect. 
They felt that they were trusted. There 



were, of course, wild boys, as there are at all 
schools; and these it was the master's duty 
to watch, to prevent their bad example con- 
taminating others. On one occasion he said 
to an assistant-master ; " Do you see those 
two boys walking together? I never saw 
them together before. You should make an 
especial point of observing the company they 
keep : nothing so tells the changes in a boy's 
character." 

Young Men Could Follow Him. 

Dr. Arnold's own example was an inspir- 
ation, as is that of every great teacher. In 
his presence, young men learned to respect 
themselves, and out of the root of self- 
respect there grew up the manly virtues. 
" His very presence," says his biographer, 
" seemed to create a new spring of health 
and vigor within them, and to give to life an 
interest and elevation which remained with 
them long after they had left him ; and 
dwelt so habitually in their thoughts as a 
living image, that, when death had taken him 
away, the bond appeared to be still unbroken, 
and the sense of separation almost lost in the 
still deeper sense of a lite and a union inde- 
structible." And thus it was that Dr. Arnold 
trained a host of manly and noble characters, 
who spread the influence of his example in 
all parts of the world. 

So also was it said of Dugald Stewart, 
that he breathed the love of virtue into 
whole generations of pupils. "To me," says 
the late Lord Cockburn, " his lectures were 
like the opening of the heavens. I felt that 
I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in 
glorious sentences, elevated me into a higher 
world. They changed my whole nature." 

Character tells in all conditions of life. 
The man of good character in a workshop 
will give the tone to his fellows, and elevate 
their entire aspirations! Thus Franklin, while 



46 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 



a workman in London, is said to have re- 
formed the manners of an entire workshop. 
So the man of bad character and debased 
energy will unconsciously lower and degrade 
his fellows. John Brown, whose " body lies 
mouldering in the ground," once said to 
Emerson, that " for a settler in a new coun- 
try, one good believing man is worth a hun- 
dred, nay, worth a thousand men without 
character." His example is so contagious, 
that all other men are directly and bene- 
ficially influenced by him, and he insensibly 
elevates and lifts them up to his own standard 
of energetic activity. 

Character is Everything. 

The scale 
Of being is a graduated thing ; 
And deeper than the vanities of power, 
Or the vain pomp of glory there is writ 
Gradation, in its hidden characters. 
The pathway to the grave may be the same, 
And the proud man shall tr -ad it, and the low, 
With his bowed head, shall \.ear him company. 
Decay will make no difference, and death, 
With his cold hand, shall make no difference ; 
And there will be no precedence of power, 
In waking at the coming trump of God ; 
But in the temper of the invisible mind, 
The godlike and undying intellect, 
There are distinctions that will live in heaven, 
When time is a forgotten circumstance ! 

The elevated brow of kings will lose 
The impress of regalia, and the slave 
Will wear his immortality as free, 
Beside the crystal waters ; but the depth 
Of glory in the attributes of God 
Will measure the capacities of mind ; 
And as the angels differ, will the ken 
Of gifted spirits glorify him more. 
It is life's mystery. The soul of man 
Createth its own destiny of power ; 
And, as the trial is intenser here, 
His being hath a nobler strength in heaven, 

N. P. Wittis. 

The Power of Goodness. 
Communication with the good is invariably 
productive of good. The good character is 
diffusive in its influence. " I was common 



clay till roses were planted in me," says some 
aromatic earth in the Eastern fable. Like 
begets like, and good makes good. " It is 
astonishing," says Canon Moseley, " how- 
much good goodness makes. Nothing that 
is good is alone, nor anything bad ; it makes 
others good or others bad — and that other, 
and so on : like a stone thrown into a pond, 
which makes circles that make other wider 
ones, and then others, till the last reaches 
the shore. Almost all the good that is in 
the world has, I suppose, thus come down to- 
us traditionally from remote times, and often 
unknown centres of good." So Mr. Ruskin 
says, " That which is born of evil begets 
evil; and that which is born of valor and 
honor teaches valor and honor." 

A Last Message. 

Great is the power of goodness to charm 
and to command. The man inspired by it 
is the true king of men, drawing all hearts 
after him. When General Nicholson lay 
wounded on his death-bed before Delhi, he 
dictated this last message to his equally 
noble and gallant friend. Sir Herbert Ed- 
wardes : " Tell him," said he, " I should 
have been a better man if I had continued 
to live with him, and our heavy pubHc 
duties had not prevented my seeing more of 
him privately. I was always the better for 
a residence with him and his wife, however 
short. Give my love to them both ! " 

There are men in whose presence we feel 
as if we breathed a spiritual ozone, refresh- 
ing and invigorating, like inhaling mountain 
air, or enjoying a bath of sunshine. 

The very sight of a great and good man 
is often an inspiration to the young, who 
cannot help admiring and loving the gentle, 
the brave, the truthful, the magnanimous { 
Chateaubriand saw Washington only once, 
but it inspired him for life. After describing 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



47 



the interview, he says : " Washington sank 
into the tomb before any little celebrity had 
attached to my name. I passed before him 
as the most unknown of beings. He was in 
all his glory — I in the depth of my obscur- 
ity. My name probably dwelt not a whole 
day in his memory. Happy, however, was 
I that his looks were cast upon me. I have 
felt warmed for it all the rest of my life. 
There is a virtue even in the looks of a great 
man." " It does one good to look upon his 
manly, honest face," said a poor German 
woman, pointing to a portrait of the great 
Reformer hung upon the wall of her humble 
dwelHng. 

Admiration of the Good. 

Even the portrait of a noble or a good 
man, hung up in a room, is companionship 
after a sort. It gives us a closer personal 
interest in him. Looking at the features, we 
feel as if we knew him better, and were more 
nearly related to him. It is a link that con- 
nects us with a higher and better nature 
than our own. And though we may be far 
from reaching the standard of our hero, we 
are, to a certain extent, sustained and fortified 
by his depicted presence constantly before us. 

Fox was proud to acknowledge how 
much he owed to the example and conversa- 
tion of Burke. On one occasion he said of 
him that " if he was to put all the political 
information he had gained from books, all 
that he had learned from science, or that the 
knowledge of the world and its affairs taught 
him, into one scale, and the improvement he 
had derived from Mr. Burke's conversation 
and instruction into the other, the latter 
would preponderate." 

Professor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's 
friendship as " energy and inspiration." 
After spending an evening with him, he 
wrote : " His work excites admiration, but 



contact with him warms and elevates the 
heart. Here, surely, is a strong man. I 
love strength, but let me not forget the ex- 
ample of its union with modesty, tender- 
ness and sweetness in the character of Far- 
aday." 

Wordsworth's Sister. 

Even the gentlest natures are powerful to. 
influence the character of others for good.. 
Thus Wordsworth seems to have been espe- 
cially impressed by the character of his sis- 
ter Dorothy, who exercised upon his mind, 
and heart a lasting influence. He describes, 
her as the blessing of his boyhood as well as 
of his manhood. Though two years, 
younger than himself, her tenderness and 
sweetness contributed greatly to mould his 
nature and open his mind to the influences- 
of poetry : 

' ' She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, 
And humble cares, and delicate fears ; 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears. 
And love, and thought, and joy." 

Thus the gentlest natures are enabled, by 
the power of affection and intelligence, to 
mould the characters of men destined to 
influence and elevate their race through all 
time. 

Sir William Napier attributed the early- 
direction of his character first to the impress 
made upon it by his mother, when a boy, 
and afterwards to the noble example of his 
commander. Sir John Moore, when a man. 
Moore early detected the qualities of the 
young officer ; and he was one of those to 
whom the general addressed the encourage- 
ment, " Well done, my majors ! " at Corunna. 
Writing home to his mother, and describing 
the little court by which Moore was sur- 
rounded, he wrote " Where shall we find 
such a king? " 

The career of the late Dr. Marshall HalL 



h^ 



E;n+ice+l\ee 




THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



49 



was a life-long illustration of the influence of 
character in forming character. Many emi- 
nent men still hving trace their success in 
life to his suggestions and assistance, without 
which several valuable lines of study and 
investigation might not have been entered on, 
at least at so early a period. 'He would say 
to young men about him, " Take up a sub- 
ject and pursue it well, and you cannot fail 
to succeed." And often he would throw out 
a new idea to a young friend, saying, " I 
make you a present of it; there is fortune in 
it, if you pursue it with energy." 

Energy Makes Others Energetic. 

Energy of character has always a power to 
evoke energy in others. It acts through 
sympathy, one of the most influential of 
human agencies. The zealous, energetic 
man unconsciously carries others along with 
him. His example is contagious, and com- 
pels imitation. He exercises a sort of 
electric power, which sends a thrill through 
every fibre, flows into the nature of those 
about him, and makes them give out sparks 
of fire. 

Dr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the 
power of this kind exercised by him over 
young men, says : " It was not so much an 
enthusiastic admiration for true genius, or 
learning, or eloquence, which stirred within 
them ; it was a sympathetic thrill, caught 
from a spirit that was earnestly at work in 
the world — whose work was healthy, sus- 
tained, and constantly carried forward in the 
fear of God — a work that was founded on a 
deep sense of its duty and its value." 

Such a power, exercised by men of genius, 
evokes courage, enthusiasm, and devotion. 
It is this intense admiration for individuals — 
.such as one cannot conceive entertained for 
a multitude — which has in all times produced 
heroes and m_artyrs. It is thus that the 



mastery of character makes itself felt. It 
acts by inspiration, quickening and vivifying 
the natures subject to its influence. 

Influenced by Dante. 

Great minds are rich in radiating force, 
not only exerting power, but communicating 
and even creating it. Thus Dante raised and 
drew after him a host of great spirits — 
Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and many more; 
From 'him Milton learnt to bear the stings 
of evil tongues and the contumely of evil 
days ; and long years after, Byron, thinking 
of Dante under the pine-trees of Ravenna, 
was incited to attune his harp to loftier 
strains than he - had ever attempted before. 
Dante inspired the greatest painters of Italy 
— Michael Angelo, and Raphael. So Ariosto 
and Titian mutually inspired one another, 
and lighted up each other's glory. 

Great and good men draw others after 
them, exciting the spontaneous admiration of 
mankind. This admiration of noble char- 
acter elevates the mind, and tends to redeem 
it from the bondage of self, one of the great- 
est stumbling-blocks to moral improvement. 
The recollection of men who have signalized 
themselves by great thoughts or great deeds 
seems to create for the time a purer atmos- 
phere around us : and we feel as if our 
aims and purposes were unconsciously 
elevated. 

" Tell me whom you admire," said Sainte- 
Beuve, '"and I will tell you what you are, at 
least as regards your talents, tastes, and 
character." Do you admire mean men? — 
your own nature is mean. Do you admire 
rich men? — you are of the earth, earthy. 
Do you admire men of fashion? — you are 
an ape. Do you admire honest, brave, and 
manly men ? — you are yourself of an honest, 
brave, and manly spirit. 

It is in the season of youth, while the 



50 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 



character is forming, that the impulse to 
admire is the greatest. 

There are, unhappily for themselves, 
persons so constituted that they have not 
the heart to be generous. The most dis- 
agreeable of all people are those who " sit 
in the seat of the scorner." Persons of this 
sort often come to regard the success of 
others, even in a good work, as a kind of 
personal offense. They cannot bear to hear 
another praised, especially if he belong to 
their own art, or calling, or profession. They 
will pardon a man's failures, but cannot 
forgive his doing a thing better than they can 
do. And where they have themselves failed, 
they are found to be the most merciless of 
detractors. The sour critic thinks of his 
rival : 



"When Heaven with such parts has blest him, 
Have I not reason to detest him?" 



The Habit of Fault-Finding, 

The mean mind occupies itself with sneer- 
ing, carping, and fault-finding, and is ready 
to scoff at everything but impudent effrontery 
or successful vice. The greatest consolation 
of such persons are the defects of men of 
character. " If the wise erred not," says 
George Herbert, " it would go hard with 
fools." Yet, though wise men may learn of 
fools by avoiding their errors, fools rarely 
profit by the example which wise men set 
them. 

A German writer has said that it is a 
miserable temper that cares only to discover 
the blemishes in the character of great men 
or great periods. Let us rather judge them 
with the charity of Bolingbroke, who, when 
reminded of one of the alleged weaknesses of 
Marlborough,, observed, " He was so great 
a man that I forgot he had that defect." 

Admiration of great men, living or dead. 



naturally evokes imitation of them in a 
greater or less degree. While a mere youth, 
the mind of Themistocles was fired by the 
great deeds of his contemporaries, and he 
longed to distinguish himself in the service 
of his country. When the battle of Mara- 
thon had been fought, he fell into a state of 
melancholy ; and when asked by his friends 
as to the cause, he replied "that the trophies 
of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep." 
A few years later, we find him at the head of 
the Athenian army, defeating the Persian 
fleet of Xerxes in the battles of Artemisium 
and Salamis — his country gratefully acknowl- 
edging that it had been saved through his 
wisdom and valor. 

A Boy's Deep Impression. 

It is related of Thucydides that, when a 
boy, he burst into tears on hearing Herodotus 
read his history, and the impression made 
upon his mind was such as to determine the 
bent of his own genius. And Demosthenes 
was so fired on one occasion by the elo- 
quence of Callestratus, that the ambition was 
roused within him of becoming an orator 
himself Yet Demosthenes was physically 
weak, had a feeble voice, indistinct articula- 
tion, and shortness of breath — defects which 
he was only enabled to overcome by diligent 
study and invincible determination. But with 
all his practice, he never became a ready 
speaker ; all his orations, especially the most 
famous of them, exhibiting indications of 
careful elaboration — the art and industry of 
the orator being visible in almost every sen- 
tence. 

Similar illustrations of character imitating 
character, and moulding itself by the style 
and manner and genius of great men, are to 
be found pervading all history. Warriors, 
statesmen, orators, patriots, poets, and artists 
— all have been, more or less unconsciously, 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



51 



nurtured by the lives and actions of others 
hving before them or presented for their 
imitation. 

The Great Musicians. 

Though Haydn once archly observed that 
he was loved and esteemed by everybody 
except professors of music, yet all the greatest 
musicians were unusually ready to recognize 
each other's greatness. Haydn himself seems 
to have been entirely free from petty jealousy. 
His admiration of the famous Porpora was 
such that he resolved to gain admission to 
his house and serve him as a valet. Having 
made the acquaintance of the family with 
whom Porpora lived, he was allowed to 
officiate in that capacity. Early each morn- 
ing he took care to brush the veteran's coat, 
polish his shoes, and put his rusty wig in 
order. At first Porpora growled at the 
intruder, but his asperity soon softened, and 
eventually melted into affection. He quickly 
discovered his valet's genius, and, by his in- 
structions, directed it into the line in which 
Haydn eventually acquired so much dis- 
tinction. 

When Correggio first gazed on Raphael's 
"Saint Cecilia," he felt within himself an 
awakened power, and exclaimed, " And I, 
too, am a painter ! " So Constable used to 
look back on his first sight of Claude's pict- 
ure of " Hagar " as forming an epoch in his 
career. Sir George Beaumont's admiration 
of the same picture was such that he always 
took it with him in his carriage when he 
travelled from home. 

It is the great lesson of biography to 
teach what man can be and can do at his 
best. It may thus give each man renewed 
strength and confidence. The humblest, in 
sight of even the greatest, may admire, and 
hope, and take courage. These great 
brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who 



live a universal life,- still speak to us from 
their graves, and beckon us on in the paths 
which they have trod. Their example is 
still with us, to guide, to influence and to 
direct us. For nobility of character is a 
perpetual bequest, living from age to age, 
and constantly tending to reproduce its like. 

Be Up and Doing, 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 

Ivife is but an empty dream I 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 

And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest. 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brav^ 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle I 

Be a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead I 
Act — act in the li\'ing Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ;— 

Footprints, that perhaps another. 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.. 




52 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



sa 



Thus example is one of the most potent 
of instructors, though it teaches without a 
tongue. It is the practical school of man- 
kind, working by action, which is always 
more forcible than words. Precept may 
point to us the way, but it is silent, continu- 
ous example, conveyed to us by habits, and 
living with us in fact, that carries us along. 
Good advice has its weight : but without the 
accompaniment of a good example it is of 
comparatively small influence ; and it will be 
found that the common saying of " Do as I 
say, not as I do," is usually reversed in the 
actual experience of life. 

We Learn Through the Eye. 

All persons are more or less apt to learn 
through the eye rather than the ear ; and 
whatever is seen, in fact, makes a far deeper 
impression than anything that is merely read 
or heard. This is especially the case in 
early youth, when the eye is the chief inlet 
of knowledge. Whatever children see they 
unconsciously imitate. They insensibly 
come to resemble those who are about them 
— as insects take the color of the leaves they 
feed on. Hence the vast importance of 
domestic training. For whatever may be 
the efficiency of schools, the examples set 
in our homes must always be of vastly 
greater influence in forming the characters of 
our future men and women. The home is 
the crystal of society — the nucleus of 
national character; and from that source, be 
it pure or tainted, issue the habits, principles 
and maxims which govern public as well as 
private life. The nation comes from the 
nursery. Public opinion itself is for the 
most part the outgrowth of the home ; and 
the best philanthropy comes from the fire- 
side. 

Example in conduct, therefore, even in 
apparently trivial matters, is of no light 



moment, inasmuch as it is constantly becom- 
ing inwoven with the lives of others, and 
contributing to form their natures for better 
or for worse. The characters of parents are 
thus constantly repeated in their children ; 
and the acts of affection, discipline, industry 
and self-control, which they daily exemplify, 
live and act when all else which may 'have 
bfeen learned through the ear 'has long been 
forgotten. Hence a wise man was accus- 
tomed to speak of his children as his "future 
state." 

How West Became a Painter. 

Even the mute action and unconscious 
look of a parent may give a stamp to the 
character which is never effaced; arid who 
can tell how much evil acts have been stayed 
by the thought of some good parent, whose 
memory their children may not sully by the 
commission of an unworthy deed, or the 
indulgence of an impure thought? The 
veriest trifles thus become of importance in 
influencmg the characters of men. "A kiss 
from my mother," said West, "made me a. 
painter." It is on the direction of such 
seeming trifles when children that the future 
happiness and success of men mainly depend. 

Fowell Buxton, when occupying an emi- 
nent and influential station in life, wrote to 
his mother, " I constantly feel, especially in 
action and exertion for others, the effects of 
principles early implanted by you in my 
mind." Buxton was also accustomed to 
remember with gratitude the obligations 
which he owed to an illiterate man, a game- 
keeper, named Abraham Plastow, with whom 
he played, and rode, and sported — a man 
who could neither read nor write, but was 
full of natural good sense and mother-wit. 
"What made him particularly valuable," 
says Buxton, " were his principles of integrity 
and honor. He never said or did a thing ia 



54 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 



the absence of my mother of which she would 
iiave disapproved. He always held up the 
highest standard of integrity, and filled our 
youthful minds with sentiments as pure and 
as generous as could be found in the writings 
of Seneca or Cicero. Such was my first 
instructor, and, I must add, my best." 

There is something solemn and awful in 
the thought that there is not an act done or 
a. word uttered by a human being but carries 
"with it a train of consequences, the end of 
which we may never trace. Not one but, to 
a certain extent, gives a color to our life, and 
insensibly influences the lives of those about 
us. The good deed or word will live, even 
though we may not see it fructify, but so will 
the bad ; and no person is so insignificant as 
to be sure that his example will not do good 
on the one hand, or evil on the other. The 
spirits of men do not die; they still live and 
walk abroad among us. 

W^e Do not Stand Alone. 

There is, indeed, an essence of immortality 
in the life of man, even in this world. No 
individual in the universe stands alone ; he is 
a component part of a . system of mutual 
■dependencies ; and by his several acts he 
either increases or diminishes the sum of 
human good now and forever. As the pres- 
ent is rooted in the past, and the lives and 
examples of our forefathers still to a great 
extent influence us, so are we by our daily 
acts contributing to form the condition and 
character of the future. 

Man is a fruit formed and ripened by the 
culture of all the foregoing centuries; and 
the living generation continues the magnetic 
current of action and example destined to 
bind the remotest past with the most distant 
future. No man's acts die utterly; and 
though his body may resolve into dust and 
air, his good or his bad deeds will still be 



bringing forth fruit after their kind, and 
influencing future generations for all time to 
come. It is in this momentous and solemn 
fact that the great peril and responsibility of 
human existence lies. 

Every act we do or word we utter, as well 
as every act we witness or word we hear, 
carries with it an influence which extends 
over, and gives a color, not only to the 
whole of our future life, but makes itself felt 
upon the whole frame of society. We may 
not, and indeed cannot, possibly, trace the 
influence working itself into action in its 
various ramifications, among our children, 
our friends, or associates ; yet there it is 
assuredly, working on forever. And herein 
lies the great significance of setting forth a 
good example — a silent teaching which even 
the poorest and least significant person can 
practise in his daily life. There is no one so 
humble, but that he owes to others this 
simple but priceless instruction. 

It Depends on the Man. 

Even the meanest condition may thus be 
made useful ; for the light set in a low place 
shines as faithfully as that set upon a hill. 
Everywhere, and under almost all circum- 
stances, however externally adverse on our 
wild frontiers, in cottage hamlets, in the close 
alleys of great towns — the true man may 
grow. He who tills a space of earth scarce 
bigger than is needed for his grave, may 
work as faithfully, and to as good purpose, 
as the heir to thousands. The most common 
workshop may thus be a school of industry, 
science and good morals, on the one hand; 
or of idleness, folly and depravity, on the 
other. It all depends on the individual men, 
and the use they make of the opportunities 
for good which offer themselves. 

A life well spent, a character uprightly 
sustained, is no slight legacy to leave to one's 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



55 



children, and to the world; for it is the most 
eloquent lesson of virtue and the severest 
reproof of vice, while it continues an endur- 
ing source of the best kind of riches. Well 
for those who can say, as Pope did, in 
rejoinder to the sarcasm of Lord Hervey, 
" I think it enough that my parents, such as 
they were, .never cost me a blush, and that 
their son, such as he is, never cost them a 
tear." 

Mere Talk Is Useless. 

It is not enough to tell others what they 
are to do, but to exhibit the actual example 
of doing. What Mrs, Chisholm described 
to a lady friend as the secret of her success, 
applies to all life. "I found," she said, "that 
if we want anything done, we must go to 
work and do it; it is of no use merely to talk 
— none whatever." It is poor eloquence that 
only shows how a person can talk. Had 
Mrs. Chisholm rested satisfied with lecturing, 
her project, she was persuaded, would never 
have got beyond the region of talk; but 
when people saw what she was doing and 
had actually accomplished, they fell in with 
her views and came forward to help her. 
Hence the most beneficient worker is not he 
who says the most eloquent things, or even 
who thinks the most loftily, but he who does 
the most eloquent acts. 

True-hearted persons, even in the hum- 
blest station in life, who are energetic doers, 
may thus give an impulse to good works out 
of all proportions, apparently, to their actual 
station in society. Thomas Wright might 
have talked about the reclamation of crimi- 
nals, and John Pounds about the necessity 
tor Mission Schools, and yet done nothing; 
instead of which they simply set to work 
without any other idea in their minds than 
that of doing, not talking. 

And how the example of even t^e poorest 



man may tell upon society, hear what Dr. 
Guthrie, the apostle of the Mission School 
movement, says of the influence which the 
example of John Pounds, the humble Ports- 
mouth cobbler, exercised upon his own work- 
ing career: 

" The interest I have been led to take in 
this cause is an example of how, in Provi- 
dence, a man's destiny — his course of life, 
like that of a river — may be determined and 
affected by very trivial circumstances. It is 
rather curious — at least it is interesting to 
me to remember — that it was by a picture I 
was first led to take an interest in mission 
schools — ^by a picture in an old, obscure, 
decaying burgh that stands on the shores of 
the Frith of Forth, the birthplace of Thomas 
Chalmers. I went to see this place many 
years ago, and, going into an inn for refresh- 
ment, I found the room covered with pictures 
of shepherdesses with their crooks, and sailors 
in holiday attire, not particularly interesting. 
But above the chimney-piece there was a 
large print, more respectable than its neigh- 
bors, which represented a cobbler's room. 
The cobbler was there himself, spectacles on 
nose, an old shoe between his knees — the 
massive forehead and firm mouth indicating 
great determination of character, and, beneath 
his bushy eyebrows, benevolence gleamed 
out on a number of poor ragged boys and 
girls who stood at their lessons round the 
busy cobbler. 

John Pounds, the Cobbler. 

" My curiosity was awakened ; and in the 
inscription I read how this man, John Pounds, 
a cobbler in Portsmouth, taking pity on the 
multitude of poor ragged children left by 
ministers and magistrates, and ladies and 
gentlemen, to go to ruin on the streets — how^ 
like a good shepherd, he gathered in these 
wretched outcasts — how he had trained them 




^M^^mmfnmmmmmnmi 




JOHN POUNDS IN HIS WORKSHOP. 



5G 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



57 



to God and to the world — and how, while 
earning his daily bread by the sweat of his 
brow, he had rescued from misery and saved 
to society not less than five hundred of these 
children. I felt ashamed of myself I felt 
reproved for the little I had done. My feel- 
ings were touched. I was astonished at this 
man's achievements ; and I well remember, 
in the enthusiasm of the moment, saying to 
my companion (and I have seen in my cooler 
and calmer moments no reason for unsaying 
the saying) — 'That man is an honor to 
humanity, and deserves the tallest monu- 
ment ever raised within the shores of Britain.' 
" I took up that man's history, and I found 
it animated by the spirit of Him who ' had 
compassion on the multitude.' John Pounds 
Avas a clever man besides, and, like Paul, if 
he could not win a poor boy any other way, 
he won him by art. He would be seen 
chasing a ragged boy along the quays, and 
compelling him to come to school, not by 
the power of a policeman, but by the power 
of a hot potato. 

Honor in Due Time. 

" He knew the love an Irishman had for 
a potato ; and John Pounds might be seen 
running holding under the boy's nose a 
potato, like an Irishman, very hot, and with a 
coat as ragged as himself. When the day 
comes when honor will be done to whom 
honor is due, I can fancy the crowd of those 
whose fame poets have sung, and to whose 
memory monuments have been raised, divid- 
ing like the wave, and, passing the great, and 
the noble, and the mighty of the land, this 
poor, obscure old man stepping forward and 
receiving the especial notice of Him who 
said : ' Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the 
least of these, ye did it also to Me.'" 

The education of character is very much 
a question of models; we mold ourselves so 



unconsciously after the characters, manners, 
habits and opinions of those who are about 
us. Good rules may do much, but good 
models far more; for in the latter we have 
instruction in action — wisdom at work. 
Good admonition and bad example only 
build with one hand to pull down with the 
other. Hence the vast importance of exer- 
cising great care in the selection of com- 
panions, especially in youth. There is a 
magnetic affinity in young persons which 
insensibly tends to assimilate them to each 
other's likeness. 

Contact with the good never fails to im- 
part good, and, we carry away with us some 
of the blessing, as travelers' garments retain 
the odor of the flowers and shrubs through 
which they have passed. 

The Force of Valiant Deeds. 

The example of the brave is an inspiration 
to the timid, their presence thrilling through 
every fiber. Hence the miracles of valor 
often performed by ordinary men under the 
leadership of the heroic. The very recollec- 
tion of the deeds of the valiant stirs men's 
blood like the sound of the trumpet. Ziskg 
bequeathed his skin to be used as a drunv to 
inspire the valor of the Bohemians. When 
Scanderbeg, prince of Epirus, was dead, the 
Turks wi-shed to possess his bones, that each 
might wear a piece next his heart, hoping 
thus to secure some portion of the courage 
he had displayed while living, and which 
they had so often experienced in battle. 

When the gallant Douglas, bearing the 
heart of Bruce to the Holy Land, saw one 
of his knights surrounded and sorely pressed 
by the Saracens, he took from his neck the 
silver case containing the hero's bequest, and 
throwing it among the thickest press of his 
foes, cried, " Pass first in fight, as thou wert 
wont to do, and Douglas will follow thee, or 



58 



THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 



die;" and so saying, he rushed forward to 
the place where it fell, and was there slain. 

" I shall not ask you to go where I am 
not willing to lead," said one of our generals 
in the war. It is needless to say his men 
were ready to follow. 

The Record of a Noble Life, 

The chief use of biography consists in the 
noble models of character in which it abounds. 
Our great forefathers still live among us in 
the records of their lives, as well as in the 
acts they have done, which live also ; still 
sit by us at table, and hold us by the hand ; 
furnishing examples for our benefit, which 
we may still study, admire and imitate. 
Indeed, whoever has left behind him the 
record of a noble life, has bequeathed to 
posterity an enduring source of good, for it 
serves as a model for others to form them- 
selves by in all time to come; still breathing 
fresh life into men, helping them to repro- 
duce his life anew, and to illustrate his 
character in other forms. Hence a book 
containing the life of a true man is full of 
precious seed. It is a still hving voice: it is 
an intellect. To use Milton's words, " It is 
the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, 
embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a 
life beyond life." Such a book never ceases 
to exercise an elevating and ennobling in- 
fluence. 

But, above all, there is the Book contain- 
ing the very highest Examples set before us 
to shape our lives by in this world — the most 
suitable for all the necessities of our mind 
and heart — an example which we can only 
follow afar off and feel after, 

" Like plants or vines which never saw the sun, 
But dream of him and guess where he may be, 
And do their best to climb and get to him." 

Franklin was accustomed to attribute his 



usefulness and eminence to his having early 
read Cotton Mather's " Essays to do Good " 
— a book which grew out of Mather's own 
life. And see how good example draws 
other men after it, and propagates itself 
through future generations in all lands. 
For Samuel Drew avers that he framed his 
own life, and especially his business habits, 
after the model left on record by Benjamin 
Franklin. Thus it is impossible to say where 
a good example may not reach, or where it 
will end, if indeed it have an end. 

The Best Kind of Work. 

One of the most valuable and one of the 
most infectious examples which can be set 
before the young, is that of cheerful working. 
Cheerfulness gives elasticity to the spirit. 
Spectres fly before it; difficulties cause no 
despair, for they are encountered with hope, 
and the mind acquires that happy disposition 
to improve opportunities which rarely fails of 
success. The fervent spirit is always a 
healthy and happy spirit ; working cheerfully 
itself and stimulating others to work. It 
confers a dignity on even the most ordinary 
occupations. The most effective work, also, 
is usually the full-hearted work — that which 
passes through the hands or the head of him 
whose heart is glad. 

Hume was accustomed to say that he 
would rather possess a cheerful disposition — 
inclined always to look at the bright side of 
things — than with a gloomy mind to be the 
master of an estate of fifty thousand dollars 
a year. Granville Sharp, amid his indefati- 
gable labors on behalf of the slave, solaced 
himself in the evenings by taking part in 
glees and instrumental concerts at his 
brother's house, singing, or playing on 
the flute, the clarionet, or the oboe; and, 
at the Sunday evening oratorios, when 
Handel was played, by beating the kettle- 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



59 



<lrums. He also indulged, though spar- 
ingly, in caricature drawing. Fowell Bux- 
ton also was an eminently cheerful man; 
taking special pleasure in field sports, in 
riding about the country with his children^ 
and in mingling in all their amusements. 

Horace Greeley's Cheerfulness. 

The great journalist, Horace Greeley, was 
conspicuous for his cheerful disposition. His 
manner was mild and his appearance con- 
tented, even under the heaviest labors. He 
could take personal abuse of the rankest kind 
without any irritation. He could show 
indignation, when called for, but his even 
frame of mind was remarkable for one who 
had so many occasions for resentment. 

In another sphere of action, Dr. Arnold 
was a noble and a cheerful worker, throwing 
himself into • the great business of his life, 
the training and teaching of young men, 
with his whole heart and soul. It is stated 
in his admirable biography, that the most 
remarkable thing in the Laleham circle was 
the wonderful healthiness of tone which pre- 
vailed there. It was a place where a new- 
comer at once felt that a great and earnest 
work was going forward. 

Every pupil was made to feel that there 
"was a work for him to do; that his happi- 
ness, as well as his duty, lay in doing that 
work well. Hence an indescribable zest was 
communicated to a young man's feeling 
about life; a strange joy came over him on 
discerning that he had the means of being 
useful, and thus of being happy. 

All this was founded on the breadth and 
comprehensiveness of Arnold's character, as 
well as its striking truth and reality ; on the 
unfeigned regard he had for work of all 
kinds, and the sense he had of its value, 
both for the complex aggregate of society 
and the growth and protection of the indi- 



vidual. In all this there was no excitement; 
no predilection for one class of work above 
another; no enthusiasm for any one-sided 
object; but a humble, profound and most 
religious consciousness that work is the 
appointed calling of man on earth ; the end 
for which his various faculties were given; 
the element in which his nature is ordained 
to develop itself, and in which his progres- 
sive advance toward heaven is to lie. 

Imitating Defects. 

So great is the power of example and so 
disposed are all persons to imitation that even 
vices are sometimes followed, and peculiarities 
that should be avoided are adopted. Plutarch 
says that among the Persians those persons 
were considered most beautiful who were 
hawk-nosed, for no other reason than that 
Cyrus had such a nose. In Richard the 
Third's court humps upon the back were 
the height of fashion, because Richard was 
built in this way. According as the various 
potentates who have condescended to rule 
mankind have lisped, or stuttered, or limped, 
or squinted, or spoken through their noses, 
these infirmities have been elevated into 
graces and commanded the admiration of 
silly mortals. 

There should, therefore, be great care in 
the home not to set an evil example. The 
young will imitate what is placed before 
them. It is more important for them to 
have a good example to follow than to 
receive words of advice and instruction. In 
his own pithy way Benjamin Franklin says 
none preach better than the ant, yet she says 
nothing. Many persons can talk, and can 
do nothing else. Their words amount to 
nothing. It is the spouting of the whale 
that puffs and blows and makes a great fuss, 
but the water all falls back into the sea and 
nobody is any the better for it. 



CHAPTKR III. 
THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER^ 




N Independence Hall, Philadel- 
phia, hangs the famous old 
Liberty Bell. Every stranger 
who visits the Quaker City 
expects to take a look at this 
relic, which bears the inscription, 
" Proclaim liberty throughout 
the land to all the inhabitants 
thereof." When the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence was adopted by Congress, the 
great event was announced by ringing the 
bell amid the hurrahs and shouts of an 
excited populace. It was the one object of 
interest in the way of historical relics at the 
World's Fair, and was constantly surrounded 
by crowds of curious sight-seers. 

The old bell met with a misfortune in 
1835, having been cracked as it was tolling 
for Chief Justice Marshall. Since that time 
its iron tongue has been silent. No attempt 
has been made to ring it, and on all our 
national anniversaries it is mute. It is 
damaged beyond repair. The tones that 
were once so clear and inspiring are not now 
heard. There is no music in the cracked 
old Liberty Bell, and, except for its history, 
the associations connected with it and the 
part it played on the first morning of our 
nation's independence, it would have gone 
for old metal and would have been melted 
up long ago. Such would have been the 
fate of any other bell with such a sorry rent 
in its side. 

The old bell cannot ring, but it can tell us 
something about human character. Here 
the flaw is equally damaging. A character 
60 



that is sound, that rings as the perfect beft 
does, is the character you must have if you 
would rank well among men and make the 
mosb of life. You cannot conceal the flaws, 
and any attempt to do it will soon be 
detected. You must be what you seem to 
be and what you profess to be. Home is 
the place where your character is fashioned,- 
and the material that goes into the bell must 
be of good quality and there must be no 
flaws in the casting. You are going to have 
heavy blows struck upon you when you get 
out into life, and a cracked character is a very 
poor possession to have on hand. For this 
reason you will do well to put Avhat is here 
said on this very important matter into the 
scales and weigh it carefully. 

"What Emerson and Luther Say. 

Character is one of the greatest motive 
powers in the world. In its noblest embodi- 
ments, it exemplifies human nature in its 
highest forms, for it exhibits man at his best. 
Emerson says, " Men of character are the 
conscience of the society to which they 
belong." And Martin Luther said, "The 
prosperity of a country depends, not on the 
abundance of its revenues, nor on the strength 
of its fortifications, nor on the beauty of its 
public buildings ; but it consists in the num- 
ber of its cultivated citizens, in its men of 
education, enlightenment, and character ; 
here are to be found its true interest, its chie 
strength, its real power." 

Men of genuine excellence, in every station 
of life — men of industry, of integrity, of high 




THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER. 



61 



62 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



principle, of sterling honesty of purpose — 
command the spontaneous homage of man- 
kind. It is natural to believe in such men, 
to have confidence in them, and to imitate 
them. All that is good in the world is 
upheld by them, and without their presence 
in it the world would not be worth living in. 
Although genius always commands admi- 
ration, character most secures respect. The 
former is more the product of brain-power, 
the latter of heart-power; and in the long 
run it is the heart that rules in life. 

Common Duties. 

Great men are always exceptional men ; 
and greatness itself is but comparative. 
Indeed, the range of most m.en in life is so 
limited, that very few have the opportunity 
of being great. But each man can act his 
part honestly and honorably, and to the, 
best of his ability. He can use his gifts, and 
not abuse them. He can strive to make the 
best of life. He can be true, just, honest, 
and faithful, even in small things. In a word, 
he can do his duty in that sphere in which 
Providence has placed him. 

Commonplace though it may appear, this 
doing of one's duty embodies the highest 
ideal of life and character. There may be 
nothing heroic about it ; but the common lot 
of men is not heroic. And though the 
abiding .sense of duty upholds man in his 
highest attitudes, it also equally sustains him 
in the transaction of the ordinary affairs of 
every-day existence. Man's life is " centered 
in the sphere of common duties." The most 
influential of all the virtues are those which 
are the most in request for daily use. They 
wear the best, and last the longest. Super- 
fine virtues, which are above the standard of 
common men, may only be sources of tempta- 
tion and danger. Burke has truly said that 
"the human system which rests for its basis 



on the heroic virtues is sure to have a super- 
structure of weakness or of profligacy." 

Thomas Sackville was lord high treasurer 
under Queen EHzabeth and James I. He 
was a man of rare virtues, and when his 
funeral sermon was delivered, the preacher 
did not dwell upon his merits as a statesman, 
or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues 
as a man in relation to the ordinary duties of 
life. " How many rare things were in him ! " 
said he. " Who more loving unto his wife? 
— Who more kind unto his children ? — Who- 
more fast unto his friend ? — Who more mod- 
erate unto his enemy ? — Who more true to- 
his word ? " Indeed, we can always better 
understand and appreciate a man's real char- 
acter by the manner in which he conducts 
himself towards those who are the most 
nearly related to him, and by his transaction 
of the seemingly commonplace details of daily 
duty, than by his public exhibition of himself 
as an author, an orator, or a statesman. 

The Noblest Manhood. 

At the same time, while duty, for the most 
part, applies to the conduct of affairs in 
common life by the average of common men, 
it is also a sustaining power to men of the 
very highest standard of character. They 
may not have either money, or property, or 
learning, or power ; and yet they may be 
strong in heart and rich in .spirit — honest, 
truthful, dutiful. And whoever strives to do 
his duty faithfully is fulfilling the purpose for 
which he was created, and building up in 
himself the principles of a manly character. 
There are many persons of whom it may be 
said that they have no other possession in 
the world but their character, and yet they 
stand as firmly upon it as any crowned king. 

Intellectual culture has no necessary rela- 
tion to purity or excellence of character. In 
the New Testament, appeals are constantly 



THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER. 



63 



made to the heart of man and to " the spirit 
we are of," while allusions to the intellect are 
of very rare occurrence. "A handful of 
good life," says George Herbert, "is worth a 
bushel of learning." Not that learning is to 
be despised, but that it must be allied to good- 
ness. Intellectual capacity is sometimes 
found associated with the meanest moral 
character — with abject servility to those in 
high places, and arrogance to those of low 
estate. A man may be accomplished in art, 
literature, and science, and yet, in honesty, 
virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty, be 
entitled to take rank after many a poor and 
illiterate peasant. 

A Great Merchant-Prince. 

For many years William E. Dodge was 
perhaps the most successful merchant in 
New York City. He grew rich for the 
reason that men knew there was never a flaw 
in his word any more than in the iron and 
steel he sold. His success was not the thing 
most to be admired, but the character of the 
man, which was always spoken of more than 
his wealth and large possessions. He gave 
away hundreds of thousands of dollars ; he 
gave something to the world of much greater 
value — an example, bright and pure as sun- 
light. There were no tricks about him. 
Men of this description — and our country 
has had thousands of them — should be your 
models. There is no short cut to success ; 
if you attempt to go across lots you will get 
swamped. By the noblest qualities of char- 
acter you will succeed and in no other way. 
Some men are too sharp and tricky ever to 
have any good luck or prosperity. 

When some one, in Sir Walter Scott's 
hearing, made a remark as to the value of 
literary talents and accomplishments, as if 
they were above all things to be esteemed 
and honored, he observed, " God help us I 



what a poor world this would be if that were 
the true doctrine! I have read books 
enough, and observed and conversed with 
enough of eminent and splendidly-cultured 
minds, too, in my time; but I assure you, 
I have heard higher sentiments from the 
lips of poor uneducated men and women, 
when exerting the spirit of severe yet gentle 
heroism under difficulties and afflictions, or 
speaking their simple thoughts as to circum- 
stances in the lot of friends and neighbors, 
than I ever yet met with out of the Bible. 
We shall never learn to feel and respect our 
real calling and destiny, unless we have 
taught ourselves to consider everything as 
moonshine, compared with the education of 
the heart." 

Still less has wealth any necessary connec- 
tion with elevation of character. On the 
contrary, it is much more frequently the 
cause of its corruption and degradation. 
Wealth and corruption, luxury and vice, have 
very close affinities to each other. Wealth 
in the hands of men of weak purpose, of 
deficient self-control, or of ill-regulated pas- 
sions, is only a temptation and a snare — the 
source, it may be, of infinite mischief to them- 
selves, and often to others. 

Advice of Robby Bioms's Father. 
On the contrary, a condition of compara- 
tive poverty is compatible with character in. 
its highest form. A man may possess only 
his industry, his frugality, his integrity, and 
yet stand high in the rank of true manhood. 
The advice which Bums's father gave him 
was the best : 

' ' He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a 

farthing, 
For without an honest manly heart no man was 

worth regarding. ' ' 

When Luther died, he left behind him, as 
set forth in his will, " no ready money, no 



34 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



treasure of coin of any description." He 
was so poor at one part of his life, that he 
was under the necessity of earning his bread 
by turning, gardening, and clock-making. 
Yet, at the very time when he was thus 
working with his hands, he was moulding 
the character of his country; and he was 
morally stronger, and vastly more honored 
and followed, than all the princes of 
Germany. 

Character is property. It is the noblest 
of possessions. It is an estate in the general 
good-will and respect of men ; and they who 
invest in it — though they may not become 
rich in this world's goods — will find their 
reward in esteem and reputation fairly and 
honorably won. And it is right that in life 
good qualities should tell — that industry, 
virtue, and goodness should rank the highest 
— and that the really best men should be 
foremost. 

Bound to be Honest. 

Simple honesty of purpose in a man goes 
a long way in life, if founded on a just 
estimate of himself and a steady obedience to 
the rule he knows and feels to be right. It 
holds a man straight, gives him strength and 
sustenance, and forms a mainspring of vigor- 
ous action. " No man," once said a well 
known author, " is bound to be rich or great 
— no, nor to be wise ; but every man is bound 
to be honest." 

But the purpose, besides being honest, 
must be inspired by sound principles, and 
pursued with undeviating adherence to truth, 
integrity, and uprightness. Without princi- 
ples, a man is like a ship without rudder or 
compass, left to drift hither and thither with 
every wind that blows. He is as one without 
law, or rule, or order, or government. 
" Moral principles," says Hume, " are social 
and universal. They form, in a manner, the 



party of humankind against vice and dis- 
order, its common enemy." 

Epictetus once received a visit from a cer- 
tain magnificent orator going to Rome on a 
lawsuit, who wished to learn from the Stoic 
something of his philosophy. Epictetus 
received his visitor coolly, not believing in 
his sincerity. "You will only criticise my 
style," said he ; " not really wishing to learn 
principles." — "Well, but," said the orator, 
" if I attend to that sort of thing, I shall be a 
mere pauper, like you, with no plate, nor 
equipage, nor land." — " I don't ■wa7tt such 
things," replied Epictetus ; " and besides, you 
are poorer than I am, after all. Patron or 
no patron, what care I ? You do care. I 
am richer than you. / don't care what 
Caesar thinks of me. / flatter no one. This 
is what I have, instead of your gold and 
silver plate. You have silver vessels, but 
earthenware reasons, principles, appetites. 
My mind to me a kingdom is, and it furnishes 
me with abundant and happy occupation in 
lieu of your restless idleness. All your pos- 
sessions seem small to you ; mine seem great 
to me. Your desire is insatiate — mine is 
satisfied." 

Epictetus lived more than eighteen hundred 
years ago, but there is one phrase in this 
quotation that has been thought of and 
repeated ever since, and forms the subject of 
a remarkable poem which we insert here. 
It is full of good sense, and deserve.* to be 
printed and read the world over. 

My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is. 

My mind to me a kingdom is ; 

Such perfect joy therein I find 
As far exceeds all earthly bliss 

That God or nature hath assigned ; 
Though much I want that most would have. 
Yet still my mind forbids to crave. 

Content I live ; this is my stay — 
I seek no more than may suflBce. 




'WORK MORN AND EVE AND THROUGH THE SULTRY NOON, 
AND SONGS OF JOY WILL HAIL THE HARVEST MOON." 



65 



6G 



thp: influence of home. 



I press to bear no haughty sway ; 

Look, what I lack my mind supplies. 
Lo ! thus I triumph like a king, 
Content with that my mind doth bring. 

I see how plenty surfeits oft, 
And hasty climbers soonest fall ; 

I see that such as sit aloft 

Mishap doth threaten most of all. 

These get with toil, and keep with fear; 

Such cares my mind could never bear. 

No princely pomp nor wealthy store, 

No force to win the victory. 
No wily wit to salve a sore. 

No shape to win a lover's eye- 
To none of these I yield as thrall ; 
For why, my mind despiseth all. 

Some have too much, yet still they crave ; 

I little have, 3'et seek no more. 
They are but poor, though much they have ; 

And I am rich with little store. 
They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; 
They lack, I lend ; they pine, I live. 

I laugh not at another's loss, 
I grudge not at another's gain ; 

No worldly wave my mind can toss; 
I brook that is another's bane. 

I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend ; 

I loathe not life, nor dread mine end. 

I wish but what I have at will ; 

I wander not to seek for more; 
I like the plain, I climb no hill ; 

In greatest storms I sit on shore, 
And laugh at them that toil in vaia 
To get what must be lost again. 

I kiss not where I wish to kill ; 

I feign not love where most I hate; 
I break no sleep to win my will ; 

I wait not at the mighty's gate. 
I scorn no poor, I fear no rich ; 
I feel no want, nor have too much. 

The court nor cart I like nor loathe ; 

Extremes are counted worst of all ; 
The golden mean betwixt them both 

Doth surest suit, and fears no fall; 
This is :ny choice; for why, I find 
No wealth is like a quiet mind. 

My wealth is health and perfect ease ; 
Mj- conscience clear mj' chief defence ; 



I never seek by bribes to please, 
Nor by desert to give offence. 
Thus do I live, thus will I die ; 
Would all did so as well as I ! 

Wii,r<iAM Byrd. 

Talent is by no means rare in the world ; 
nor is even genius. But can the talent be 
trusted ? — can the genius ? Not unless based 
on truthfulness — on veracity. It is this 
quality more than any other that commands 
the esteem and respect, and secures the con- 
fidence of others. Truthfulness is at the 
foundation of all personal excellence. It 
exhibits itself in conduct. It is rectitude — 
truth in action, and shines through every 
word and deed. It means reliableness, and 
convinces other men that it can be trusted. 
And a man is already of consequence in the 
world when it is known that he can be relied 
on — that when he says he knows a thing, he 
does know it — that when he says he will do 
a thing, he can do, and does it. Thus 
reliableness becomes a passport to the gen- 
eral esteem and confidence of mankind. 

Good Sense and Rectitude. 

In the affairs of life or of business, it is not 
intellect that tells so much as character — 
not brains so much as heart — not genius so 
much as self-control, patience, and discipline, 
regulated by judgment. Hence there is no 
better provision for the uses of either private 
or public life, than a fair share of ordinary 
good sense guided by rectitude. Good sense, 
disciplined by experience and inspired by 
goodness, issues in practical wisdom. Indeed, 
goodness in a measure implies wisdom — the 
highest wisdom — the union of the worldly 
with the spiritual. 

It is because of this controlling power of 
character in life that we often see men exer- 
cise an amount of influence apparently out 
of all proportion to their intellectual endow- 



THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER. 



67 



ments. They appear to act by means of 
some latent power, some reserved force, 
which acts secretly, by mere presence. As 
Burke said of a powerful nobleman of the 
last century, " his virtues were his means." 
The secret is, that the aims of such men are 
felt to be pure and noble, and they act upon 
others with a constraining power. 

How to Gain Respect. 

Though the reputation of men of genuine 
character may be of slow growth, their true 
qualities can not be wholly concealed. They 
may be misrepresented by some, and mis- 
understood by others ; misfortune and adver- 
sity may, for a time, overtake them ; but, 
with patience and endurance, they will eventu- 
ally inspire the respect and command the 
confidence which they really deserve. 

It has been said of Sheridan that, had he 
possessed reliableness of character, he might 
have ruled the world ; whereas, for want of 
it, his splendid gifts were comparatively use- 
less. He dazzled and amused, but was 
without weight or influence in life or politics. 
Even the poor pantomimist of Drury Lane 
felt himself his superior. Thus, when Delpini 
one day pressed the manager for arrears of 
salary, Sheridan sharply reproved him, telling 
him he had forgotten his station. " No, 
indeed. Monsieur Sheridan, I have not," 
retorted Delpini ; " I know the difference 
between us perfectly well. In birth, parent- 
age, and education, you are superior to me ; 
but in life, character, and behavior, I am 
superior to you." 

Unlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, 
was a great man of character. He was 
thirty-five before he gained a seat in Parlia- 
ment, yet he found time to carve his name 
deep in the political history of England. 
He was a man of great gifts, and of trans- 
cendent force of character. Yet he had 



a weakness, which proved a serious defect—^ 
it was his want of temper ; his genius was 
sacrificed to his irritability. And without 
this apparently minor gift of good temper, the 
most splendid endowments may be com- 
paratively valueless to their possessor. 

Character is formed by a variety of minute 
circumstances, more or less under the regu- 
lation and control of the individual. Not a 
day passes without its discipline, whether for 
good or for evil. There is no act, however 
trivial, but has its train of consequences, as 
there is no hair so small but casts its shadow. 
It was a wise saying of a gifted lady, never 
to give way to what is little ; or by that little, 
however you may despise it, you will be 
practically governed. 

The Growth of Character. 

Every action, every thought, every feeling, 
contributes to the education of the temper, 
the habits, and understanding, and exercises 
an inevitable influence upon all the acts of 
our future life. Thus character is under- 
going constant change, for beder or for 
worse — either being elevated on the one 
hand, or degraded on the other. " There is 
no fault nor folly of my life," says Mr. Rus- 
kin, "that does not rise up against me, and 
take away my joy, and shorten my power of 
possession, of sight, of understanding. And 
every past effort of my life, every gleam of 
rightness or good in it, is with me now, to 
help me." 

The mechanical law, that action and reac- 
tion are equal, holds true also in morals. 
Good deeds act and react on the doers of 
them ; and so do evil. Not only so : they 
produce like effects, by the influence of 
example, on those who are the subjects of 
them. But man is not the creature, so much 
as he is the creator, of circumstances ; and, 
by the exercise of his free-will, he can direct 



C8 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



his actions so that they shall be productive 
of good rather than evil. 

Instead of saying that man is the creature 
of circumstance, it Avould be nearer the mark 
to say that man is the architect of circum- 
s::ances. It is character which builds an 
existence out of circumstance. Our strength 
i-i measured by our plastic power. From the 
same materials one man builds palaces, 
another hovels : one warehouses, another 
villas. Bricks and mortar are mortar and 
bricks, until the architect can make them 
something else. Thus it is that in the same 
family, in the same circumstances, one man 
rears a stately, edifice, while his brother, 
vacillating and incompetent, lives forever 
amid ruins : the block of granite which was 
an obstacle on the pathway of the weak, 
becomes a stepping-stone on the pathway 
of the strong. 

Success Is Sure. 

" Nothing can work me damage but 
myself," said St. Bernard ; " the harm that 
I sustain I carry about with me ; and I am 
never a real sufferer but by my own fault.' 

The best sort of character, however, can 
not be formed without effort. There needs 
the exercise of constant self-watchfulness, 
self-discipline, and self-control. There may 
be much faltering, stumbling, and temporary 
defeat ; difficulties and temptations manifold 
to be battled with and overcome ; but if the 
spirit be .strong and the heart be upright, no 
one need despair of ultimate success. The 
very effort to advance — to arrive at a higher 
standard of character than we have reached 
— is inspiring and invigorating ; and even 
though we may fall short of it, we cannot 
fail to be improved by every honest effort 
made in an upward direction. 

And with the light of great examples to 
guide u.s — representatives of humanity in its 



best forms — every one is not only justified, 
but bound in duty, to aim at reaching the 
highest standard of character : not to become 
the richest in means, but in .spirit ; not the 
greatest in wordly position, but in true 
honor; not the most intellectual, but the 
most virtuous ; not the most powerful and 
influential, but the most truthful, upright, 
and honest. 

The Noblest Boy. 

It was very characteristic of the late prince 
consort — husband of Queen Victoria — a man 
himself of the purest mind, who powerfully 
impressed and influenced others by the sheer 
force of his own benevolent nature — when 
drawing up the conditions of the annual 
prize to be given at Wellington College, to 
determine that it should be awarded, not to 
the cleverest boy, nor to the most bookish 
boy, nor to the most precise, diligent, and 
prudent boy, but to the noblest boy, to the 
boy who should show the most promise of 
becoming a large-hearted, high-motived man. 

Character exhibits itself in conduct, guided 
and inspired by principle, integrity, and 
practical wisdom. In its highest form, it is 
the individual will acting energetically under 
the influence of religion, morality, and reason. 
It chooses its way considerately, and pursues 
it steadfastly ; esteeming duty above reputa- 
tion, and the approval of conscience more 
than the world's praise. While respecting 
the personality of others, it preserves its own 
individuality and independence ; and has the 
courage to be morally honest, though it may 
be unpopular, trusting tranquilly to time and 
experience for recognition. 

Although the force of example will always 
exercise great influence upon the formation 
of character, the self-originating and sustain- 
ing force of one's own spirit must be the 
main-stay. This alone can hold up the life, 



THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER. 



6& 



and give individual independence and energy. 
" Unless man can erect himself above him- 
self," said Daniel, a poet of the Elizabethan 
era, " how poor a thing is man ! " Without 
a certain degree of practical efficient force — 
compounded of will, which is the root, and 
wisdom, which is the stem of character — life 
will be indefinite and purposeless — like a 
body of stagnant waler, instead of a running 
stream doing useful work and keeping the 
machinery of a district in motion. 

The Force of "Words and Deeds. 

When the elements of character are brought 
into action by determinate will, and, influenced 
by high purpose, man enters upon and cour- 
ageously perseveres in the path of duty, at 
whatever cost of worldly interest, he may be 
said to approach the summit of his being. 
He then exhibits character in its most 
intrepid form, and embodies the highest idea 
of manliness. The acts of such a man 
become repeated in the life and action of 
others. His very words live and become 
actions. Thus every word of Luther's rang 
through Germany like a trumpet. As 
Richter said of him, " His words were half- 
battles." And thus Luther's life became 
transfused into the life of his country, 
and still lives in the character of modern 
Germany. 

On the other hand, energy, without integ- 
rity and a soul of goodness, may only repre- 
sent the embodied principle of evil. Among 
such men aie found the greatest scourges 
and devastators of the world — those unprin- 
pled scoundrels whom Providence, in its 
inscrutable designs, permits to fulfill their 
mission of destruction upon earth. Among 
these was Napoleon " the Great," a man of 
abounding energy, but destitute of principle. 
He had the lowest opinion of his fellow-men. 
" Men are hogs, who feed on gold," he once 



said : " well, I throw them gold, and lead 
them withersoever I will." 

Very different is the man of energetic 
character inspired by a noble spirit, whose 
actions are governed by rectitude, and the 
law of whose life is duty. He is just and 
upright — in his business dealings, in his 
public action, and in his family life: justice 
being as essential in the government of a 
home as of a nation. He will be honest in 
all things — in his words and in his work. 
He will be generous and merciful to his 
opponents, as well as to those who are 
weaker than himself 

Cromwell's Ironsides. 

The man of character is conscientious,. 
He puts his conscience into his work, intO' 
his words, into his every action. When 
Cromwell asked the Parliament for soldiers 
in lieu of the decayed serving-men and 
tapsters who filled the Commonwealth's 
army, he required that they should be men 
" who made some conscience of what they 
did ; " and such were the men of which his 
celebrated regiment of " Ironsides " was com- 
posed. 

The man of character is also reverential. 
The possession of this quality marks the 
noblest and highest type of manhood and 
womanhood : reverence for things conse- 
crated by the homage of generations — for 
high objects, pure thoughts, and noble aims 
— for the great men of former times, and the 
high-minded workers among our contempo- 
raries. Reverence is alike indispensable to 
the happiness of individuals, of families, and 
of nations. Without it there can be no 
trust, no faith, no confidence, either in man 
or God — neither social peace nor social pro- 
gress. For reverence is but another word 
for religion, which binds men to each other, 
and all to God. 



70 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



The man of noble spirit converts all occur- 
rences into experience, between which experi- 
ence and his reason there is marriage, and 
the issue are his actions. He moves by 
affection, not for affection; he loves glory, 
scorns shame, and governeth and obeyeth 
with one countenance, for it comes from one 
consideration. Knowing reason to be no idle 
gift of nature, he is the steersman of his own 
destiny. Truth is his goddess, and he takes 
pains to get her, not to look hke her. Unto 
the society of men he is a sun, whose clear- 
ness directs their steps in a regular motion. 
He is the wise man's friend, the example of 
the indifferent, the medicine of the vicious. 

The Strong Make their own Path. 

Energy of will — self-originating force is 
the soul of every great character. Where 
it is, there is life; where it is not, there is 
faintness, helplessness, and despondency. 
"The strong man and the waterfall," says 
the proverb, " channel their own path." 
The energetic leader of noble spirit not only 
wins a way for himself, but carries others 
with him. His every act has a personal sig- 
nificance, indicating vigor, independence, and 
self-reliance, and unconsciously commands 
respect, admiration, and homage. Such 
intrepidity of character characterized Luther, 
Cromwell, Washington, Henry Clay, Andrew 
Jackson, Pitt, Wellington, and all great lead- 
ers of men. 

" I am convinced," said Mr. Gladstone, in 
describing the qualities of Lord Palmerston 
in the House of Commons, shortly after his 
death — " I am convinced that it was the 
force of will, a sense of duty, and a deter- 
mination not to give in, that enabled him to 
make himself a model for all of us who yet 
remain and follow him, with feeble and 
unequal steps, in the discharge of our duties ; 
it was that force of will that in point of fact 



did not so much struggle against the infirmi- 
ties of old age, but actually repelled them and 
kept them at a distance. 

"And one other quality there is, at least, 
that may be noticed without the smallest risk 
of stirring in any breast a painful emotion. 
It is this, that Lord Palmerston had a nature 
incapable of enduring anger or any sentiment 
of wrath. This freedom from wrathful senti- 
ment was not the result of painful effort, but 
the spontaneous fruit of the mind. It was a 
noble gift of his original nature — a gift which 
beyond all others it was delightful to observe, 
delightful also to remember in connection 
with him who has left us, and with whom we 
have no longer to do, except in endeavoring 
to profit by his example wherever it can lead 
us in the path of duty and of right, and of 
bestowing on him those tributes of admira- 
tion and affection which he deserves at our 
hands." 

"The Fair Boy." 

There is a contagiousness in every example 
of energetic conduct. The brave man is an 
inspiration to the weak, and compels them, 
as it were, to follow him. Thus Napier 
relates that at the combat of Vera, when the 
Spanish centre was broken and in flight, a 
young officer, named Havelock, sprang for- 
ward, and, waving his hat, called upon the 
Spainards within sight to follow him. Put- 
ting spurs to his horse, he leaped the abattis 
which protected the French front, and went 
headlong against them. The Spainards were 
electrified; in a moment they dashed after 
him, cheering for '■'El chico bianco T' (the 
fair boy), and with one shock they broke 
through the French and sent them flying 
downhill. 

Napier mentions another' striking illustra- 
tion of the influence of personal qualities in 
young Edward Freer, of the same regiment, 



THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER. 



71 



who, when he fell at the age of nineteen, at 
the battle of the Nivelle, had already seen 
more combats and seiges than he could count 
years. " So slight in person, and of such 
surpassing beauty, that the Spainards often 
thought him a girl disguised in man's cloth- 
ing, he was yet so vigorous, so active, so 
brave, that the most daring and experienced 
veterans watched his looks on the field of 
battle, and, implicitly following where he 
led, would, like children, obey his slightest 
sign in the most difficult situations." 

W^ashington's Personal Influence. 

And so it is in ordinary life. The good 
and the great draw others after them ; they 
lighten and lift up all who are within reach 
of their influence. They are as so many 
living centres of beneficent activity. Let 
a man of energetic and upright character be 
appointed to a position of trust and authority, 
and all who serve under him become, as it 
were, conscious of an increase of power. 
When Chatham was appointed minister, his 
personal influence was at once felt through 
all the ramifications of office. Every sailor 
-who served under Nelson, and knew he was 
in command, shared the inspiration of the 
hero. 

When Washington consented to act as 
commander-in-chief, it was felt as if the 
strength of the American forces had been 
more than doubled. Many years later, in 
1798, when Washington, grown old, had 
withdrawn from public life and was living in 
retirement at Mount Vernon, and when it 
seemed probable that France would declare 
war against the United States, President 
Adams wrote to him, saying, "We must 
have your name, if you will permit us to use 
it ; there will be more efficacy in it than in 
many an army." Such was the esteem in 
which the great President's noble character- 



and eminent abilities were held by his 
countrymen ! 

An incident is related by the historian of 
the Peninsular War, illustrative of the per- 
sonal influence exercised by a great com- 
mander over his followers. The British army 
lay at Sauroren, before which Soult was 
advancing, prepared to attack in force. Wel- 
lington was absent, and his arrival was 
anxiously looked for. Suddenly a single 
horseman was seen riding up the mountain 
alone. It was the duke, about to join his 
troops. One of Campbell's Portuguese bat- 
talions first descried him, and raised a joyful 
cry; then the shrill clamor, caught up by 
the next regiment, soon swelled as it ran 
along the fine into that appalling shout which 
the British soldier is wont to give upon the 
edge of battle, and which no enemy ever 
heard unmoved. 

One Man may be a Host. 

Suddenly he stopped at a conspicuous 
point, for he desired both armies should know 
he was there, and a double spy who was 
present pointed out Soult, who was so near 
that his features could be distinguished. 
Attentively Wellington fixed his eyes on that 
formidable man, and, as if speaking to him- 
self, he said : " Yonder is a great commander ; 
but he is cautious, and will delay his attack 
to ascertain the cause of those cheers ; that 
will give time for the Sixth Divison to arrive, 
and I shall beat him " — which he did. 

In some cases, personal character acts by 
a kind of talismanic influence, as if certain 
men were the organs of a sort of supernatural 
force. " If I but stamp on the ground in 
Italy," said Pompey, " an army will appear." 
At the voice of Peter the Hermit, as described 
by the historian, " Europe arose, and pre- 
cipitated itself upon Asia." It was said of 
the Caliph Omar that his walking-stick struck 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



more terror into those who saw it than 
another man's sword. 

The very names of some men are Hke the 
sound of a trumpet. When the Douglas lay 
mortally wounded on the field of Otterburn, 
he ordered his name to be shouted still 
louder than before, saying there was a tradi- 
tion in his family that a dead Douglas should 
win a battle. His followers, inspired by the 
sound, gathered fresh courage, rallied, and 
conquered ; and thus, in the words of the 
Scottish poet : 

"The Douglas dead, his name hath won the field." 

There have been some men whose greatest 
conquests have been achieved after they them- 
selves were dead. "Never," says Michelet, 
" was Caesar more alive, more powerful, 
more terrible, than when his old and worn-out 
body, his withered corpse, lay pierced with 
blows ; he appeared then purified, redeemec: 
— that which he had been, despite his many 
stains — the man of humanity." 

" Being Dead, they yet Sp .ak." 

The same illustration applies to all history 
and morals. The career of a great man 
remains an enduring monument of human 
energy. The man dies and disappears; but 
his thoughts and acts survive, and leave an 
indelible stamp upon his race. And thus 
the spirit of his life is prolonged and per- 
petuated, moulding the thought and will, 
and thereby contributing to form the charac- 
ter of the future. It is the men that advance 
in the highest and best directions who are 
the true beacons of human progress. They 
are as lights set upon a hill, illumining the 
moral atmosphere around them; and the 
light of their .spirit continues to shine upon 
all succeeding generations. 

It is natural to admire and revere really 
great men. They hallow the nation to which 



they belong, and lift up not only all who live 
in their time, but those who live after them. 
Their great example becomes the common 
heritage of their race; and their great deeds 
and great thoughts are the most glorious of 
legacies to mankind. They connect the 
present with the past, and help on the in- 
creasing purpose of the future; holdin^,^ aloft 
the standard of principle, maintaining the 
dignity of human character, and filling the 
mind with traditions and instincts of all that 
is most worthy and noble in life. 

Demand for Men. 

The world wants men — large-hearted, manly men 

Men who shall join its chorus, and prolong 

The psalm of labor, and the psalm of love. 

The times want scholars — scholars who shall shape 

The doubtful destinies of dubious years. 

And land the ark, that bears our countr3''s good. 

Safe on some peaceful Ararat at last. 

The age wants heroes — heroes who shall dare 

To struggle in the solid ranks of truth ; 

To clutch the monster error by the throat ; 

To bear opinion to a loftier seat ; 

To blot the era of oppression out. 

And lead a universal freedom in. 

And heaven wants souls — fresh and capacious souls; 

To taste its raptures, and expand, like flowers, 

Beneath the glory of its central sun. 

It wants fresh souls — not lean and shrivelled ones; 

It wants fresh souls, my brother — give it thine. 

If thou indeed wilt be what scholar should. 

If thou wilt be a hero, and wilt strive 

To help thy fellow and exalt thyself, 

Thy feet, at last, shall stand on jasper floors ; 

Thy heart, at last, shall seem a thousand hearts — 

Each single heart with myriad raptures filled — 

While thou shalt sit with princes and with kings, 

Rich in the jewel of a ransomed soul. . 

Character embodied in thought and deed, 
is of the nature of immortality. The soli- 
tary thought of a great thinker will dwell in 
the minds of men for centuries, until at length 
it works itself into their daily life and prac- 
tice. It lives on through the ages, speaking 
as a voice from the dead, and influencing 
minds living thousands of years apart 



THE BEST CAPITAL IS CHARACTER. 



Thus, Moses and David and Solomon, Plato 
and Socrates and Xenophon, Seneca and 
Cicero and Epictetus, still speak to us as 
from their tomhs. 

The Arrow and the Song. 

I shot an arrow into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

I breathed a song into the air. 
It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For who has sight so keen and strong, 
That it can follow the flight of song ? 

Ivong, long afterward, in an oak 
I found the arrow, still unbroke ; 
And the song, from beginning to end, 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfei<i,ow. 

A succession of variously gifted men in 
different ages — extending from Alfred to 
Albert — has in like manner contributed, by 
their life and example, to shape the multiform 
character of England. Of these, probably 
the most influential were the men of the 
Elizabethan and Cromwellian, and the inter- 
mediate periods — among whom we find the 
great names of Shakespeare, Raleigh, Bur- 
leigh, Sidney, Bacon, Milton, Herbert, Hamp- 
den, Pym, EHot, Vane, Cromwell, and many 
more — some of them men of great force, and 
others of great dignity and purity of char- 
acter. The lives of such men have become 
part of the public life of the world, and their 
deeds and thoughts are regarded as among 
the most cherished bequeathments from the 
.past. 

So Washington left behind him, as one of 
the greatest treasures of our country, the 
example of a stainless life — of a great, 
honest, pure, and noble character — a model 
for the nation to form itself by in all time 
to come. And in the case of Washington, 
as in so many other great leaders of men, his 



greatness did not so m^ich consist in his 
intellect, his skill, and his genius, as in h'~ 
honor, his integrity, his truthfulness, his high 
and controlling sense of duty — in a word, in 
his genuine nobility of character. 

While statesmen, philosophers, and divines 
represent the thinking power of society, the 
men who found industries and carve out new 
careers, as well as the common body of 
working-people, from whom the national 
strength and spirit are from time to time 
recruited, must necessarily furnish the vital 
force and constitute the real backbone of 
every nation. 

Dollars and Calico. 

Nations have their character to maintain 
as well as individuals ; and under con- 
stitutional governments — where all classes 
more or less participate in the exercise of 
political power — the national character will 
necessarily depend more upon the moral quali- 
ties of the many than of the few. And the 
same quahties which determine the character 
of individuals also determine the character of 
nations. Unless they are high-minded,- truth- 
ful, honest, virtuous, and ourageous, they 
will be held in light esteem by other nations, 
and be without 'weight in the world. To 
have character, they must needs also be 
reverential, disciplined, self-controlling, and 
devoted to duty. The nation that has no 
higher god than pleasure, or even dollars o 
calico, must needs be in a poor way. It 
were better to revert to Homer's gods than 
be devoted to these ; for the heathen deities 
at least imaged human virtues, and were 
something to look up to. 

As for institutions, however good in them- 
selves, they will avail but little in maintaining 
the standard of national character. It is the 
individual men, and the spirit which actuates 
them, that determine the moral standing and 



74 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



stability of nations. Government, in the 
long run, is usually no better than the people 
governed. Where the mass is sound in con- 
science, morals, and habit, the nation will be 
ruled honestly and nobly. But where they 
are corrupt, self-seeking, and dishonest in 
heart, bound neither by truth nor by law, the 
rule of rogues and wire-pullers becomes 
inevitable. 

The best start in life, therefore, is a good 



character — one that has the true ring in it, 
that doesn't sound like a counterfeit dollar, 
that is made of good, solid metal through- 
out — a character that is not short in measure 
or weight, that weighs sixteen ounces to 
the pound every time it is put into the 
scales. 

There is an old poem that teaches a good 
lesson, and it is appropriate for ending this 
chapter. 



WEIGHING CHARACTER. 



A monk, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er. 

In the depths of his cell with his stone-covered floor. 

Resigning to thought his chimerical brain. 

Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain ; 

But whether by magic or alchemy 's powers 

"We know not ; indeed, 'tis no business of ours. 

Perhaps it was only by patience and care, 

At last, that he brought his invention to bear. 

In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away. 

And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and gray ; 

But success is secure, ^ nless energy fails ; 

And at length he produced the philosopher's scales. 

"What were they?" you ask. You shall presently 

see; 
These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea. 
Oh no ; for such properties wondrous had they. 
That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could 

weigh. 
Together with articles small or immense, 
From mountains or planets to atoms of sense. 

Naught was there so bulky but there it would lay. 
And naught so ethereal but there it would stay. 
And naught so reluctant but in it must go : 
All which some examples more clearly will show. 

The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, 
"Which retained all the wit that had ever been there. 
As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf. 
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief, 
"When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell 
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. 

One time he put in Alexander the Great, 

"With the garments that Dorcas had made for a 

weight ; 
And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, 
The liero rose up, and the garments went down. 



A long row of almshouses, amply endowed 
By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, 
Next loaded one scale ; while the other was pressed 
By those mites the poor widow dropped into the 

chest : 
Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce. 
And down, down the farthing-worth came with a 

bounce. 



By further experiments (no matter how) 

He found that ten chariots weighed less than one 

plough ; 
A sword with gilt trappings rose up in the scale, 
Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail ; 
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear, 
"Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear. 



A iord and a lady went up at full sail, 
"When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale ; 
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl, 
Ten counsellors' wigs full of powder and curl. 
All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence, 
"Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense ; 
A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt. 
Than one good potato just washed from the dirt ; 
Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice 
One pearl to outweigh — 'twas the pearl of great price. 



Last of all , the whole world was bowled in at the grat^ 
"With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight, 
"When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff 
That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof ! 
When balanced in air, it ascended on high. 
And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky ; 
"While the scale with the soul in't so mightily fell 
That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. 

Jane Tayi,or. 



CHAPTER IV. 



MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF. 




FATHER, writing to a son who 
had been sent to school in 
Philadelphia, said, "You must 
make your position in life by 
first making yourself. If you 
make something good of your- 
self you will occupy a station of honor and 
usefulness. If you are a failure, your life 
will be." This advice was worthy of Ben 
Franklin himself, and such as he would have 
given to the young. To make something 
good and noble of yourself is the best start 
in life you can have, and, in fact, the only 
start you need. 

" The best part of every man's education," 
said Sir Waiter Scott, "is that which he gives 
to himself." " Every person," says Gibbon, 
" has two educations, one which he receives 
from others, and one, more important, which 
he gives to himself" 

Benjamin Brodie, the eminent surgeon, 
used to congratulate himself on the fact that 
professionally he was self-taught. But this 
is necessarily the case with all men who have 
acquired distinction in letters, science or art. 
The education received at school or college 
is but a beginning, and is valuable mainly 
inasmuch as it trains the mind and habituates 
it to continuous application and study. That 
which is put into us by others is always far 
less ours than that which we acquire by our 
own dihgent and persevering effort. Knowl- 
edge conquered by labor becomes a pos- 
session — a property entirely our own. 

This kind of self-culture also calls forth 
.power and cultivates strength. The solution 



of one problem helps the mastery of another" 
and thus knowledge is carried into faculty. 
Our own active effort is the essential thing ; 
and no faculties, no books, no teachers, no 
amount of lessons learned by rote will enable 
us to dispense with it. 

And no boy or girl is so deficient in 
mental power or acuteness as to render the 
task of self-improvement hopeless. By acting 
upon good teachings and models in the 
home, and by diligence and patient labor, 
even unpromising soil can be cultivated and 
made fruitful. Parents should never abandon 
a child to itself, nor discourage any endeavor 
to rise in the world. It has often proved to 
be the case that those who gave little promise 
in their early days happily disappointed their 
friends afterwards, and showed that they 
were capable of good things. It was only 
needful to wake up their slumbering powers 
and rightly direct them. 

Something Good in Every One. 

The heart has tendrils like the vine. 

Which round another's bosom twine, 

Outspringing from the living tree 

Of deeply planted sympathy ; 

Whose flowers are hope, its fruits are bliss, 

Beneficence its harvest is. 

There are some bosoms dark and drear. 
Which an unwatered desert are ; 
Yet there a curious eye may trace 
Some smiling spot, some verdant place. 
Where little flowers, the weeds between, 
Spend their soft fragrance all unseen. 

Despise them not — for wisdom's toil 
Has ne'er disturbed that stubborn soil • 

75 




MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF. 



76 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



77 



Yet care and culture might have brought 
The ore of truth from mines of thought ; 
And fancy's fairest flowers had bloomed 
Where truth and fancy lie intombed. 

Insult him not — his blackest crime 
May, in his Maker's eye sublime. 
In spite of all thy pride, be less 
Than e'en thy daily waywardness ; 
Than many a sin and many a stain 
Forgotten and impressed again. 

There is in ever}- human heart 
Some not completely barren part, 
Where seeds of truth and love might grow 
And flowers of generous virtue blow : 
To plant, to watch, to water there — ■ 
This, as our duty, be our care ! 

And sweet it is, the growth to trace, 

Of worth, of intellect, of grace. 

In bosoms where our labors first 

Bid the young seed of spring-time burst. 

And lead it on from hour to hour, 

To ripen into perfect power. 

John- Bowiong. 

Importance of Self-Culture. 

The best teachers have been the readiest 
to recognize the importance of self-culture, 
and of stimulating the student to acquire 
knowledge by the active exercise of his own 
faculties. They have relied more upon 
training than upon telling, and sought to 
make their pupils themselves active parties to 
the work in which they were engaged ; thus 
making teaching something far higher than 
the mere passive reception of the scraps and 
details of knowledge. 

This was the spirit in which the great Dr. 
Arnold worked ; he strove to teach his 
pupils to rely upon themselves, and develop 
their powers by their own active efforts, him- 
self merely guiding, directing, stimulating 
and encouraging them. " I would far rather," 
he said, "send a boy to Van Diemen's Land, 
where he must work for his bread, than send 
him to Oxford to live in luxury, without any 
desire in his mind to avail himself of his 
advantages." " If there be one thing on 



earth," he observes on another occasion, 
" which is truly admirable, it is to see God's 
wisdom blessing an inferiority of natural 
powers, when they have been honestly, truly 
and zealously cultivated." Speaking of a 
pupil of this character, he said, " I would 
stand to that man hat in hand." 

Benefits of Laboro 

Practical success in life depends more upon 
physical health than is generally imagined. 
An English officer, writing home to a friend, 
said, " I believe if I get on well in India, it 
will be owing, physically speaking, to a sound 
digestion." The capacity for continuou.<5 
working in any calling must necessarily 
depend in a great measure upon this ; and 
hence the necessity for attending to health, 
even as a means of intellectual labor. It is 
perhaps to the neglect of physical exercise 
that we find among students so frequent 
a tendency toward discontent, unhappiness, 
inaction and reverie — displaying itself in con- 
tempt for real life and disgust at the beaten 
tracks of men — a tendency which in England 
has been called .'^lyronism, and in Germany 
Wertherism. .^r. Channing, of Boston, 
noted the same growth, which led him to 
make the remark, that " too many of our 
young men grow up in a school of despair." 
The only remedy for this green-sickness in 
youth is physical exercise — action, work and 
bodily occupation. 

The great divine, Jeremy Taylor, says, 
" Avoid idleness and fill up all the spaces of 
thy time with severe and useful employment; 
for lust easily creeps in at those emptinesses 
where the soul is unemployed and the body 
is at ease ; for no easy, healthful, idle person 
was ever chaste, if he could be tempted ; but 
of all employments bodily labor is the most 
useful, and of the greatest benefit for driving 
away the devil." 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



79 



The use oi early labor in self-imposed 
mechanical employments may be illustrated 
by the boyhood of Sir Isaac Newton. 
Though comparatively a dull scholar, he was 
very assiduous in the use of his saw, hammer 
and hatchet — " knocking and hammering in 
his lodging room " — making models of wind- 
mills, carriages and machines of all sorts ; 
and as he grew older, he took delight in 
making little tables and cupboards for his 
friends. Smeaton, the eminent engineer. 
Watt, the discoverer of the steam engine in 
its present form, and Stephenson, the famous 
builder of light-houses, were equally handy 
with tools when mere boys ; and but for such 
kind of self-culture in their youth, it is doubt- 
ful whether they would have accomplished 
so much in their manhood. Such was also 
the early training of the great inventors and 
mechanics whose contrivance and intelligence 
were practically trained by the constant use 
of their hands in early life. 

Value of Early Training, 

Thomas Edison, whose discoveries in 
electricity have given him world-wide fame, 
showed in youth a passionate fondness for 
science and an industry no less great. He 
was always playing with lightning. If he 
had been indolent, a do-nothing, instead of a 
hard worker, the world would never have 
heard from him. 

Even where men belonging to the manual 
labor class have risen above it, and become 
more purely intellectual laborers, they have 
found the advantages of their early training 
in their later pursuits. Elihu Burritt says 
he found hard labor necessary to enable him 
to study with effect; and more than once he 
gave up school-teaching and study, and 
taking to his leather apron again, went back 
to his blacksmith's forge and anvil for his 
health of body and mind's sake. 



The training of young men in the use of 
tools would, at the same time that it edu- 
cated them in "common things," teach them 
the use of their hands and arms, familiarize 
them with healthy work, exercise their facul- 
ties upon things tangible and actual, give 
them some practical acquaintance with me- 
chanics, impart to them the ability of being 
useful, and implant in them the habit of 
persevering physical effort. 

^A^lat a Great Preacher Said. 

The success of even professional men 
depends in no slight degree on their physical 
health ; and a public writer has gone so far 
as to say that "the greatness of our great 
men is quite as much a bodily affair as a 
mental one." One of America's greatest 
preachers was accustomed to say he was as 
much indebted for success to what was 
below his neck as to what was above it. 
He meant that a strong, sound body was 
something he could not dispense with, and 
this had been in large part the secret of his 
achievements. A healthy breathing appa- 
ratus is as indispensable to the successful 
lawyer or politician as a well-cultured intel- 
lect. The thorough aeration of the blood 
by free exposure to a large breathing surface 
in the lungs, is necessary to maintain that 
full vital power on which the vigorous work- 
ing of the brain in so large a measure de- 
pends. 

Though Sir Walter Scott, when at Edin- 
burgh College, went by the name of " The 
Greek Blockhead," he was, notwithstanding 
his lameness, a remarkably healthy youth : 
he could spear a salmon with the best fisher 
on the Tweed, and ride a wild horse with any 
hunter in Yarrow. When devoting himself 
in after life to literary pursuits. Sir Walter 
never lost his taste for field sports; but while 
writing "Waverley" in the morning, he 



MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF. 



would in the afternoon course hares. Pro- 
fessor Wilson was a very athlete, as great at 
throwing the hammer as in his flight of 
eloquence and poetry; and Burns, when a 
youth, was remarkable chiefly for his leaping 
and wrestling. 

Physical Energy. 

Some of the greatest divines were distin- 
guished in their youth for their physical 
energies. Isaac Barrow, when at the Charter- 
house School, was notorious for his pugilistic 
encounters, in which he got many a bloody 
nose ; Andrew Fuller, when working as a 
farmer's lad at Soham, was chiefly famous 
for his skill in boxing; and Adam Clarke, 
when a boy, was only remarkable for the 
strength displayed by him in "rolling large 
stones about" — the secret, possibly, of some 
of the power which he subsequently dis- 
played in rolling forth large thoughts in his 
manhood. 

Bishop Phillips Brooks was a man of 
immense physique and strength. It is 
related of him that when traveling in Europe 
with two good-sized trunks, if he had any 
difficulty in procuring a cabman to transport 
him and his baggage a half mile or mile, he 
took a trunk in each hand and walked away 
as' if carrying only a couple of hand-bags. 
The strength of his thoughts was propor- 
tioned to the strength of his body. 

The lawyer in full practice, and the Con- 
gressional leader in full work, are called 
upon to display powers of physical endur- 
ance and activity even more extraordinary 
than those of the intellect — such powers as 
were exhibited in so remarkable a degree by 
"Webster, John C. Calhoun and William 
Wirt, of Virginia. 

It is astonishing how much may be 
accomplished in self-culture by the energetic 
and the persevering, who are careful to avail 



themselves of opportunities, and use up the 
fragments of spare time which the idle per- 
mit to run to waste. Thus Ferguson learned 
astronomy from the heavens while wrapped 
in a sheep-skin on the highland hills. Thus 
Stone learned mathematics while working as 
a journeyman gardener; thus Drew studied 
the highest philosophy in the intervals of 
mending shoes; thus Hugh Miller taught 
himself geology while working as a da}'- 
laborer in a quarry; and thus Dr. Edward 
Hitchcock, President of Amherst College, 
Mass., won his fame in science while tramp- 
ing over fields and climbing mountains in 
pursuit of health. His vast stores of in- 
formation and his brilliant discoveries were 
equalled only by his lofty character, of 
which humility and a devout spirit were the 
most conspicuous traits. 

The Success of Drudgery. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, the renowned painter, 
as we have already observed, was so earnest 
a believer in the force of industry, that he 
held that all men might achieve excellence 
if they would but exercise the power of 
assiduous and patient working. He held 
that drudgery lay on the road to genius, and 
that there was no limit to the proficiency of an 
artist except the limit of his own painstaking. 
He would not believe in what is called inspi- 
ration, but only in study and labor. " Excel- 
lence," he said, " is never granted to man but 
as the reward of labor." " If you have great 
talents, industry will improve them ; if you 
have but moderate abilities, industry will 
supply the deficiency. Nothing is denied to 
well-directed labor ; nothing is to be obtained 
without it." Sir Fowell Buxton- was an 
equal believer in the power of study ; and he 
entertained the modest idea that he could do 
as well as other men if he devoted to the 
pursuit double the time and labor that they 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



81 



■did. He placed his great confidence in 
ordinary means and extraordinary applica- 
tion. 

"I have known several men in my life," 
says a close observer, " who may be recog- 
nized in days to come as men of genius, and 
they were all plodders, hard-working, intent 
men. Genius is known by its works ; genius 
without works is a blind faith, a dumb oracle. 
But meritorious works are the result of time 
jind labor, and cannot be accomplished by 
intention or by a wish. Every great work 
is the result of vast preparatory training. 
Facility comes by labor. Nothing seems 
-easy, not even walking, that was not difficult 
at first. The orator whose eye flashes 
instantaneous fire, and whose lips pour out 
a flood of noble thoughts, startling by their 
unexpectedness and elevating by their wisdom 
.and truth, has learned his secret by patient 
repetition, and after many bitter disappoint- 
ments." 

The Power of Application. 

Thoroughness and accuracy are two prin- 
cipal points to be aimed at in study. Francis 
Horner, in laying down rules for the cultiva- 
tion of his mind, placed great stress upon the 
habit of continuous application to one subject 
for the sake of mastering it thoroughly ; he 
confined himself with this object to only a 
few books, and resisted with the greatest 
firmness " every approach to a habit of desul- 
tory reading." The value of knowledge to 
any man consists not in its quantity, but 
mainly in the good uses to which he can 
apply it. Hence a little knowledge of an 
exact and perfect character is always found 
more valuable for practical purposes than any 
extent of superficial learning. 

By .spreading our efforts over too large a 
surface we inevitably weaken our force, 
hinder our progress, and acquire a habit of 



fitfulness and ineffective working. Lord St. 
Leonards once communicated to Sir Fowell 
Buxton the mode in which he had conducted 
his studies, and thus explained the secret of 
his success: "I resolved," said he, "when 
beginning to read law, to make everything I 
acquired perfectly my own, and never to go 
to a second thing till I had entirely accom- 
plished the first. Many of my competitors 
read as much in a day as I read in a week; 
but, at the end of twelve months, my know- 
ledge was as fresh as the day it was acquired, 
while theirs had glided away from recol- 
lection." 

Have a Definite Aim. 

It is not the quantity of study that one 
gets through, or the amount of reading, that 
makes a wise man ; but the advantage of the 
study to the purpose for which it is pursued; 
the concentration of the mind, for the time 
being, on the subject under consideration ; 
and the habitual discipline by which the 
whole system of mental application is regu- 
lated. Abernethy was even of opinion that 
there was a point of fulness in his own mind, 
and that if he took into it something more 
than it could hold, it only had the effect of 
pushing something else out. Speaking of 
the study of medicine, he said: "If a man 
has a clear idea of what he desires to do, he 
will seldom fail in selecting the proper means 
of accomplishing it." 

The most profitable study is that which is 
conducted with a definite aim and object. 
By thoroughly mastering any given branch 
of knowledge we render it more available for 
use at any moment. Hence it is not enough 
merely to have books, or to know where to 
read for information as we want it. Practical 
wisdom, for the purposes of life, must be 
carried about with us, and be ready for use 
at call. It is not sufficient that we have 



k 



82 



MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF. 



a fund laid up at home, but not a nickel in 
the pocket : we must carry about with us a 
store of the current coin of knowledge ready 
for exchange on all occasions, else we are 
comparatively helpless when the opportunity 
for using it occurs. 

Decision and promptitude are as requisite 
in self-culture as in business. The growth 
of these qualities may be encouraged by 
accustoming young people to rely upon their 
own resources, leaving them to enjoy as 
much freedom of action in early life as is 
practicable. Too much guidance and re- 
straint hinder the formation of habits of 
self-help. They are like bladders tied under 
the arms of one who has not taught himself 
to swim. Want of confidence is perhaps 
a greater obstacle to improvement than is 
generally imagined. It has been said that 
half the failures in life arise from pulling in 
one's horse while he is leaping. 

Self-Confidence a Good Thing. 

Dr. Johnson was accustomed to attribute 
his success to confidence in his own powers. 
True modesty is quite compatible with a due 
esteem of one's own merits, and does not 
demand the abnegation of all merit. Though 
there are those who deceive themselves by 
putting a false figure before their ciphers, the 
want of confidence, the want of faith in one's 
self, and consequently the want of prompti- 
tude in action, is a defect of character which 
is found to stand very much in the way of 
individual progress ; and the reason why so 
little is done is generally because so little is 
attempted. 

There is usually no want of desire on the 
part of most persons to arrive at the results 
of self-culture, but there is a great aversion 
to pay the inevitable price for it, of hard 
work. Dr. Johnson held that " impatience 
of study was the mental disease of the 



present generation ; " and the remark is 
still applicable. We may not believe that 
there is a royal road to learning, but we 
seem to believe very firmly in the "popular" 
one. In education, we invent labor-saving; 
processes, seek short cuts to science, learn 
French and Latin " in twelve lessons," or 
" without a master." We resemble the lady 
of fashion, who engaged a master to teach 
her on condition that he did not plague her 
with verbs and participles. We get our 
smattering of science in the same way; we 
learn chemistry by listening to a short 
course of lectures enlivened by experiments, 
and when we have inhaled laughing-gas,, 
seen green water turned to red, and phos- 
phorus burned in oxygen, we have got our 
smattering, of which the most that can be 
said is, that though it may be better than 
nothing, it is yet good for nothing. Thus 
we often imagine we are being educated 
while we are only amused. 

Charles Dudley Warner makes the amus- 
ing suggestion that some enterprising Yan- 
kee will yet invent a machine whereby a 
young man or woman can drop a nickel in 
the slot and pull out an education. 

Shirking Hard Work. 

The faculty with which young people are 
thus induced to acquire knowledge, without 
study and labor, is not education. It occu- 
pies but does not enrich the mind. It 
imparts a stimulus for the time, and produces 
a sort of intellectual keenness and clever- 
ness; but without an implanted purpose and 
a higher object than mere pleasure, it wilt 
bring with it no solid advantage. In such 
cases knowledge produces but a passing 
impression; a sensation, but no more. Thus 
the best qualities of many minds, those 
which are evoked by vigorous effort and 
independent action, sleep a deep sleep, and 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



83 



are often never called to life, except by the 
rough awakening of sudden calamity or 
suffering, which, in such cases, comes as a 
blessing if it serves to rouse up a courageous 
spirit that, but for it, would have slept on. 

Accustomed to acquire information under 
the guise of amusement, young people will 
soon reject that which is presented to them 
under the aspect of study and labor. Learn- 
ing their knowledge and science in sport, 
they will be too apt to make sport of both; 
while the habit of intellectual dissipation, 
thus engendered, cannot fail, in course of 
time, to produce a thoroughly emasculating 
effect both upon their mind and character. 
"Multifarious reading," said Robertson of 
Brighton, " weakens the mind like smoking, 
and. is an excuse for its lying dormant. It 
is the idlest of all idlenesses, and leaves more 
of impotency than any other." 

The evil is a growing one, and operates in 
various ways. Its least mischief is shallow- 
ness ; its greatest, the aversion to steady 
labor which it induces, and the low and 
feeble tone of mind which it encourages. If 
we would be really wise, we must diligently 
apply ourselves, and confront the same con- 
tinuous application which our forefathers did ; 
for labor is still, and ever will be, the inevit- 
able price set upon everything which is 
valuable. We must be satisfied to work 
with a purpose, and wait the result with 
patience. 

Shallow Knowledge. 

A little learning is a dangerous thing ; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring ; 
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, 
And drinking largely sobers us again. 
Fired at first sight -with what the Muse imparts, 
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, 
While from the bounded level of our mind 
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind : 
But more advanced, behold the strange surprise. 
New distant scenes of endless science rise ! 



So pleased at first the towering Alps we try, 

Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky; 

Th' eternal snows appear already past. 

And the first clouds and mountains seem the last i 

But those attained, we tremble to survey 

The growing labors of the lengthened way ; 

Th' increasing prospect tires our wandering eyes. 

Hills creep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise ! 

Alexander Pope. 

All progress, of the best kind, is slow; but 
to him who works faithfully and zealously 
the reward will, doubtless, be vouchsafed in 
good time. The spirit of industry, embodied 
in man's daily life, will gradually lead him 
to exercise his powers on objects outside 
himself, of greater dignity and more extended 
usefulness. And still we must labor on; 
for the work of self-culture is never finished. 
"To be employed," said the poet Gray, "is 
to be happy." " It is better to wear out 
than rust out," said Bishop Cumberland. 
"Have we not all eternity to rest in?" ex- 
claimed Arnauld. 

The Use of One Talent. 

It is the use we make of the powers 
intrusted to us, which constitutes our only 
just claim to respect. He who employs his 
one talent aright is as much to be honored as 
he to whom ten talents have been given. 
There is really no more personal merit 
attaching to the possession of superior intel- 
lectual powers than there is in the succession 
to a large estate. How are those powers 
used — how is that estate employed? The 
mind may accumulate large stores of knowl- 
edge without any useful purpose ; but the 
knowledge must be allied to goodness and 
wisdom, and embodied in upright character^ 
else it is naught. 

Pestalozzi, the great educational reformer, 
even held intellectual training by itself to be 
pernicious; insisting that the roots of all 
knowledge must strike and feed in the soil 



84 



MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF. 



of the rightly-governea will. The acquisi- 
tion of knowledge may, it is true, protect a 
man against the meaner felonies of life ; but 
not in any degree against its selfish vices, 
unless fortified by sound principles and 
habits. Hence do we find in daily life so 
many instances of men who are well-informed 
in intellect, but utterly deformed in character; 
filled with the learning of the schools, yet 
possessing little practical wisdom, and offer- 
ing examples for warning rather than imita- 
tion. An often quoted expressioin' at this day 
is that "Knowledge is power;" but so, also, 
are fanaticism, despotism and ambition. 
Knowledge of itself, unless wisely directed, 
might merely make bad men more danger- 
ous, and the society in which it was regarded 
as the highest good, little better than a pan- 
demonium. 

Pernicious Education. 

All knowledge is not nourishment. The inin4 

May pine upon its food. In reckless thirst 

The .scholar sometimes kneels beside the stream 

Polluted b)' the lepers of the mind. 

Tlic sceptic, with his doubts of all things good 

And faith in all things evil, has been there, 

And, as the stream was mingled, he has strown 

The shore with all bright flowers to tempt the eye, 

And sloped the banks down gently for the feet ; 

And Genius, like a fallen child of light, 

Has filled the place with magic, and compelled 

Most beautiful creations into forms 

And images of license, and they come 

And tempt you with bewildering grace to kneel, 

And drink of the wild waters ; and behind 

Stand the strong Passions, pleading to go in ; 

And the approving world looks silent on ; 

Til! the pleased mind conspires against itself. 

And finds a subtle reason why 'tis good. 

We are deceived, though ; even as we drink, 

We taste the evil. In his sweetest tone, 

The lying Tempter whispers in our ear, 

"Though it may stain, 'twill strengthen your proud 

wing;" 
And in the wild ambition of the soul 
We drink anew, and dream like Lucifer 
To mount upon our daring draught to heaven. 

N. P. Wir,i<is. 



The possession of the mere materials ol 
knowledge is something very different from 
wisdom and understanding, which are reached 
through a higher kind of discipline than that 
of reading — which is often but a mere passive 
reception of other men's thoughts; there 
being little or no active effort of mind in the 
transaction. Then how much of our reading 
is but the indulgence of a sort of intellectual 
dram-drinking, imparting a grateful excite- 
ment for a moment, without the slightest 
effect in improving and enriching the mind 
or building up the character. Thus many 
indulge themselves in the conceit that they 
are cultivating their minds, when they are 
only employed in the humbler occupation of 
killing time, of which perhaps the best that 
can be said is, that it keeps them from doing 
worse things. 

It is also to be borne in mind that the 
experience gathered from books, though 
often valuable, is but of the nature of learn. 
ing ; whereas the experience gained froii; 
actual life is of the nature oi wisdom; and a 
small store of the latter is worth vastly more 
than any stock of the former. Some one 
has truly said that " Whatever study tends 
neither directly nor indirectly to make us 
better men and citizens, is at best but a 
specious and ingenious sort of idleness, and 
the knowledge we acquire by it only a 
creditable kind of ignorance — nothing more." 

The Great Charter of Liberty, 

Useful and instructive though good read- 
ing may be, it is yet only one mode o/ 
cultivating the mind ; and is much less influ- 
ential than practical experience and good 
example in the formation of charac ^er. There 
were wise, valiant and true-heart( d men bred 
in England long before the existence of a 
reading public. Magna Charta, that great 
charter of human rights, was secured by men 




i 



THE BEAUTIES OF AUTUMN. 



85 



•BG 



MAKE THE BEST OF YOURSELF. 



who signed the deed with their marks. 
Though altogether unskilled in the art of 
deciphering the literary signs by which 
principles were denominated upon paper, 
they yet understood and appreciated, and 
' boldly contended for, the things themselves. 
Thus the foundations of English liberty were 
laid by men who, though illiterate, were 
nevertheless of the very highest stamp of 
character. 

The Declaration of Independence. 

It is worth noting that, at the time of our 
American Revolution, education was so 
widely diffused that those who pledged "life, 
liberty and sacred honor" in the immortal 
Declaration of Independence did it, not by 
making their marks, but by signing their 
names with their own hands. They were 
intelligent, educated men. They could think, 
•nd could see the results of their thinking 
anc- vL:*'" action. They were not all eminent 
stholars, but they knew enough to make 
America free, and there was no call just then 
for any higher attainments. They had know- 
ledge enough to do what needed to be done, 
which was far better than to have the pro- 
foundest learning, yet without the practical 
wisdom that rendered our country free and 
independent. 

It must be admitted that the chief object 
of culture is, not merely to fill the mind with 
■other men's thoughts, and to be the passive 
recipient of their impressions of things, but 
to enlarge our individual intelligence, and 
render us more useful and efficient workers 
in the sphere of life to which we may be 
called. Many of the most energetic and 

.useful workers have been but sparing readers. 

/Brindley and Stephenson did not learn to 
read and write until they reached manhood, 
and yet they did great works and lived 
manly lives. 



John Hunter could barely read or write 
when he was twenty years old, though he 
could make tables and chairs with any car- 
penter in the trade. "I never read," said 
the great physiologist when lecturing before 
his class, "this" — pointing to some part of 
the subject before him — "this is the work 
that you must study if you wish to become 
eminent in your profession." When told 
that one of his contemporaries had charged 
him with being ignorant of the dead lan- 
guages, he said: "I would undertake to 
teach him concerning the human body what 
he never knew in any language, dead or 
living." 

The True Object of Knowledge. 

It is not then how much a man may know, 
that is of importance, but the end and pur- 
pose for which he knows it. The object of 
knowledge should be to mature wisdom and 
improve character, to render us better, 
happier and more useful ; more benevolent, 
more energetic, and more efficient in the 
pursuit of every purpose in life. When 
people once fall into the habit of admiring 
and encouraging ability as such without 
reference to moral character — and religious 
and political opinions are the concrete form 
of moral character — they are on the highway 
to all sorts of degradation. 

We must ourselves be and do, and not rest 
satisfied merely with reading and meditating 
over what other men have been and done. 
Our best light must be made life, and our 
best thought action. At least we ought to be 
able to say, as Richter did, " I have made as 
much out of myself as could be made of the 
stuff, and no man should require more;" for 
it is every man's duty to discipline and guide 
himself, with God's help, according to his 
responsibilities and the faculties with which 
he has been endowed. 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



8^/ 



Serf-discipline and self-control are the be- 
ginnings of practical wisdom; and these 
must have their root in self-respect. Hope 
springs from it — hope, which is the compan- 
ion of power, and the mother of success ; 
for who hopes strongly has within him the 
gift of miracles. The humblest may say : 
"To respect myself, to develop myself — this 
is my true duty in life. An integral and 
responsible part of the great system of 
society, I owe it to society and to its Author 
not to degrade or destroy either my body, 
mind or instincts. On the contrary, I am 
bound to the best of my power to give to 
those parts of my constitution the highest 
degree of perfection possible. I am not 
■only to suppress the evil, but to evoke the 
good elements in my nature. And as I 
respect myself, so am I equally bound to 
respect others, as they on their part are 
bound to respect me." Hence mutual re- 
spect, justice and order, of which law 
becomes the written record and guarantee. 

Reverence Yourself. 

Self-respect is the noblest garment with 
which a man may clothe himself — the most 
elevating feeling with which the mind can be 
inspired. One of Pythagoras' wisest max- 
ims, in his " Golden Verses," is that with 
which he enjoins the pupil to "reverence 
himself." Borne up by this high idea, he 
will not defile his body by sensuality, nor 
his mind by servile thoughts. This senti- 
ment carried into daily life, will be found at 
the root of all the virtues — cleanliness, so- 
briety, chastity, morality and religion. 

"The pious and just honoring of our- 
^elves," said Milton, "may be thought the 



radical moisture and fountain-head from 
whence every laudable and worthy enterprise 
issues forth.'" To think meanly of one's self, 
is to sink in one's own estimation as well as 
in the estimation of others. And as the 
thoughts are, so will the acts be. Man 
cannot aspire if he looks down ; if he will 
rise, he must look up. The very humblest 
may be sustained by the proper indulgence 
of this feeling. Poverty itself may be lifted 
and lighted up by self-respect; and it is truly 
a noble sight to see a poor man hold himself 
upright amid his temptations, and refuse to 
demean himself by low actions. 

The Best Investment. 

One way in which self-culture may be 
degraded is by regarding it too exclusively 
as a means of "getting on." Viewed in this 
light, it is unquestionable that education is 
one of the best investments of time and 
labor. In any line of life, intelligence will 
enable a man to adapt himself more readily 
to circumstances, suggest improved methods 
of working, and render him more apt, skilled 
and effective in all respects. 

He who works with his head as well as 
his hands, will come to look at his business 
with a clearer eye; and he will become con- 
scious of increasing power — ^perhaps the 
most cheering consciousness the human 
mind can cherish. The power of self-help 
will gradually grow ; and in proportion to a 
man's self-respect, will he be armed against 
the temptation of low indulgences. Society 
and its actions will be regarded with quite a 
new interest, his sympathies will widen and 
enlarge, and he will thus be attracted to work 
for others as well as for himself. 




88 



ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



CHAPTER V. 
THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 




F the home, by example and pre- 
^f cept, teaches children what they 
ought to be, there is a reasona- 
ble certainty that they will 
succeed in after-life. All true 
success must be in themselves. 
It is not something that will 
come by luck or chance — not something 
that they can find and pick up as a boy 
might find a silver dollar in the street — not 
something that can be made for them and 
thrust upon them. 

But suppose your children do not gain an 
overwhelming amount of worldly success. 
It is better that they should be worthy in 
character and life than that they should rule 
nations. Henry Clay once said, "I would 
rather be right than to be President.** 

" Not all who seem to fail have failed indeed ; 
Not all who fail have therefore worked in vain ; 
For all our acts to many issues lead ; 
And out of earnest purpose, pure and plain. 
Enforced by honest toil of hand or brain, 
The Lord will fashion, in His own good time 
(Be this the laborer's proudly humble creed), 
Such ends as, to His wisdom, fitliest chime 
With His vast love's eternal harmonies- 
There is no failure for the good and v ise : 
What though thy seed should fall by the wayside 
And the birds snatch it; — yet the birds are fed; 
Or they may bear it far across the tide. 
To give rich harvests after thou art dead." 

Self-culture may not end in eminence. 
The great majority of men, in all times, 
however enlightened, must necessarily be 
engaged in the ordinary avocations of in- 
dustry; and no degree of culture which can 
be conferred upon the community at large 



will ever enable them — even were it desira. 
ble, which it is not — to get rid of the daily 
work of society, which must be done. But 
this, we think, lay also be accomplished. 
We can elevate the condition of labor by 
allying it to noble thoughts, which confer a. 
grace upon the lowliest as well as the high- 
est rank. For no matter how poor or 
humble a man may be, the great thinker of 
this and other days may come in and sit 
down with him, and be his companion for 
the time, though his dwelling be the mean- 
est hut. 

Society in Yourself. 

It is thus that the habit of well-directed 
reading may become a source of the greatest 
pleasure and self-improvement, and exercise 
a gentle coercion, with the most beneficial 
results, over the whole tenor of a man's 
character and conduct. And even though 
self-culture may not bring wealth, it will at 
all events give one the companionship of 
elevated thoughts. A nobleman once con- 
temptuously asked of a sage, "What have 
you got by all your philosophy?" "At least 
I have got society in myself," was the wise 
man's reply. 

But many are apt to feel despondent, and 
become discouraged in the work of self 
culture, because they do not " get on " in the 
world so fast as they think they deserve to 
do. Having planted their acorn, they expect 
to see it grow into an oak at once. They 
have perhaps looked upon knowledge in the 
light of a marketable commodity, and are 

89 



90 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



consequently mortified because it does not 
sell as they expected it would do. 

To regard self-culture either as a means 
of getting past others in the world, or of 
intellectual dissipation and amusement, rather 
/than as a power to elevate the character and 
expand the spiritual nature, is to place it on 
a very low level. To use the words of Bacon, 
"Knowledge is not a shop for profit or sale^ 
but a rich storehouse for the glory of the 
Creator and the reHef of man's est'^te." It is 
doubtless most honorable for a man to labor 
to elevate himself, and to better his condi- 
tion in society, but this is not to be done at 
the sacrifice of himself. To make the mind 
the mere drudge of the body, is putting it to 
a very servile use; and to go about whining 
and bemoaning our pitiful lot because we fail 
in achieving that success in life which, after 
all, depends rather upon habits of industry 
and attention to business details than upon 
knowledge, is the mark of a small, and often 
■)f a sour mind. 

Blessings that are Undeserved. 

Such a temper cannot better be reproved 
than in the words of Robert Southey, who 
thus wrote to a friend who sought his counsel : 
"I would give you advice if it could be of 
use ; but there is no curing those who choose 
to be diseased. A good man and a wise 
man may at times be angry with the world, 
at times grieved for it ; but be sure no man 
was ever discontented with the world if he 
did his duty in it. If a man of education, 
who has health, eyes, hands and leisure, 
wants an object, it is only because God 
Almighty has bestowed all those blessings 
upon a man who does not deserve them." 

Amusement in moderation is wholesome, 
and to be commended; but amusement in 
excess vitiates the whole nature, and is a 
thing to be carefully guarded against. The 



maxim is often quoted of "All work and no 
play makes Jack a dull boy;" but all play 
and no work makes him something greatly 
worse. Nothing can be more hurtful to a 
youth than to have his soul sodden with 
pleasure. The best qualities of his mind are 
impaired; common enjoyments become taste- 
less; his appetite for the higher kind of 
pleasures is vitiated ; and when he comes to 
face the work and the duties of life, the 
result is usually aversion and disgust. 

The Bill Comes in Later. 

" Fast" men waste and exhaust the powers 
of life, and dry up the sources of true happi- 
ness. Having forestalled their spring, they 
can produce no healthy growth of either 
character or intellect. A child without sim- 
plicity, a maiden without innocence, a boy 
without truthfulness, are not more piteous 
sights than the man who has wasted and 
thrown away his youth in self-indulgence. 
Mirabeau said of himself, " My early years 
have already in a great measure disinherited 
the succeeding ones, and dissipated a great 
part of my vital powers." As the wrong 
done to another to-day returns upon our- 
selves to-morrow, so the sins of our youth 
rise up in our age to scourge us. When 
Lord Bacon says that "strength of nature 
in youth passeth over many excesses which 
are owing a man until he is old," he exposes 
a physical as well as a moral fact which can- 
not be too well weighed in the conduct of 
life. 

"I assure you," wrote Giusti, the Italian, 
to a friend, " I pay a heavy price for exist- 
ence. It is true that our hves are not at our 
own disposal. Nature pretends to give them 
gratis at the beginning, and then sends in her 
account." The worst of youthful indiscretions 
is, not that they destroy health so much as 
that they sully manhood. The dissipated 




THE SOWER. 



92 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



youth becomes a tainted man; and often he 
cannot be pure, even if he would. If cure 
there be, it is only to be found in inoculating 
the mind with a fervent spirit of duty, and in 
energetic application to useful work. 

One of the most gifted of Frenchmen, in 
point of great intellectual endowments, was 
Benjamin Constant; but, "fast" at twenty, 
his life was only a prolonged wail, instead of 
a harvest of the great deeds which he was 
capable of accomplishing with ordinary dili- 
gence and self-control. He resolved upon 
doing so many things, which he never did, 
that people came to speak of him as Con- 
stant the Incon'';ant. He was a fluent and 
brilliant writer, and cherished the ambition 
of writing works "which the world would 
not willingly let die." But while Constant 
affected the highest thinking, unhappily he 
practiced the lowest living. With all his 
powers of intellect, he was powerless, because 
he had no faith in virtue. 

A Remarkable Career. 

The career of Augustin Thierry, the author 
of the " History of the Norman Conquest," 
affords an admirable contrast to that of Con- 
stant. His entire life presented a striking 
example of perseverance, diligence, self-cul- 
ture and untiring devotion to knowledge. 
In the pursuit he lost his eyesight, lost his 
health, but never lost his love of truth. 
When so feeble that he was carried from 
room to room, like a helpless infant, in the 
arms of a nurse, his brave spirit never failed 
him; and blind and helpless though he was, 
he concluded his literary career in the fol- 
lowing noble words : 

" If, as I think, the interest of science is 
counted in the number of great national 
interests, I have given my country all that 
the soldier, mutilated on the field of battle, 
gives her. Whatever may be the fate of my 



labors, this example, I hope, will not be lost 
I would wish it to serve to combat the species 
of moral weakness which is the disease of 
our present generation; to bring back into 
the straight road of life some of those 
enervated souls that complain of wanting 
faith, that know not what to do, and seek 
everywhere, without finding it, an object Oj 
worship and admiration. Why say, with so 
much bitterness, that in the world, constituted 
as it is, there is no air for all lungs — no em- 
ployment for all minds? Is not calm and 
serious study there? and is not that a refuge^ 
a hope, a field within the reach of all of us? 
With it, evil days are passed over without 
their weight being felt. Every one can 
make his own destiny — every one employ 
his life nobly. This is what I have done, 
and would do again if I had to recommence 
my career; I would choose that which has 
brc^ight me where I am. Blind and suffer- 
ing without hope, and almost without inter- 
mission, I may give this testimony, which 
from me will not appear suspicious. There 
zs something in the world better than sensual 
enjoyments, better than fortune, better than 
health itself — it is devotion to knowledge." 

All for >A^ant of Energy. 
Robert NicoU wrote to a friend, after read- 
ing the "Recollections of Coleridge," "What 
a mighty intellect was lost in that man for 
want of a little energy — a little determina- 
tion ! " NicoU himself was a true and brave 
spirit, who died young, but not before he had 
encountered and overcome great difficulties 
in life. At his outset, while carrying on a 
small business as a bookseller, he found him- 
self weighed down with a debt of only a 
hundred dollars, which he said he fek 
"weighing like a millstone round his neck.'' 
and that " if he had it paid he never would 
borrow again from mortal man." 



THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



93 



Writing to his mother at the time, he said : 
"Fear not for me, dear mother, for I feel 
myself growing firmer and more hopeful in 
spirit. The more I think and reflect — and 
thinking, not reading, is- now my occupation 
-I feel that, whether I be growing richer or 
>ot, I am growing a wiser man, which is far 
better. Pain, poverty, and all the other wild 
beasts of life which so affrighten others, I am 
so bold as to think I could look in the face 
without shrinking, without losing respect for 
myself, faith in man's high destinies, or trust 
in God. There is a point which it costs 
much mental toil and struggling to gain, but 
which, when once gained, a man can look 
down from, as a traveler from a lofty mount- 
ain, on storms raging below, while he is 
walking in sunshine. That I have yet gained 
this point in life I will not say. but I feel 
myself daily nearer to it." 

Difficulties the Making 3f t^en. 
It is not ease, but effort — not fadlity, but 
difficulty, that makes men. There is, per- 
haps, no station in life, in which difficulties 
have not to be encountered and overcome 
before any decided measure of success can be 
achieved. Those difficulties are, however, 
our best instructors, as our mistakes often 
form our best experience. Charles James 
Fox was accustomed to say that he hoped 
more for a man who failed, and yet went on 
in spite of his failure, than from the buoyant 
'career of the successful. 

"It is all very well," said he, "to tell me 
that a young m.an has distinguished himself 
by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, 
or he may be satisfied with his first triumph ; 
but show me a young man who has not suc- 
ceeded at first, and nevertheless has gone on, 
and I will back that young man to do better 
than most of those who have succeeded at 
the first trial." 



We learn wisdom from failure much more 
than from success. We often discover what 
zvill do, by finding out what will not do ; and 
probably he who never made a mistake never 
made a discovery. It was the failure in the 
attempt to make a sucking-pump act, when 
the working-bucket was more than thirty- 
three feet above the surfaceof the watertobe 
raised, that led observant men to study the 
law of atmospheric pressure, and opened a 
new field of research to the genius of Galileo, 
Torrecelli and Boyle. John Hunter used to 
remark that the art of surgery would not 
advance until professional men had the cour- 
age to publish their failures as well as their 
successes. Watt, the engineer, said of all 
things most wanted in mechanical engineering 
was a history of failures : " We want," he 
said, " a book of blots." 

Success from Failure. 

When Sir Humphry Davy was once shown 
a dexterously manipulated experiment, he 
said: "I thank God I was not made a dex- 
terous manipulator, for the most important 
of my discoveries have been suggested to me 
by failures." Another distinguished investi- 
gator in physical science has left it on record 
that, whenever in the course of his researches 
he encountered an apparently insuperable 
obstacle, he generally found himself on the 
brink of some discovery. The very greatest 
things — great thoughts, great discoveries, 
in\-entions — have usually been nurtured in 
hardship, often pondered over in sorrow, and 
at length established with difficulty. 

Beethoven said of Rossini, that he had in 
him the stuff to have made a good musician 
if he had only, when a boy, been well flogged ; 
but that he had been spoiled by the facility 
with which he composed. Men who feel 
their strength within them need not fear to 
encounter adverse opinions ; they have far 



94 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



greater reason to fear undue praise and too 
friendly criticism. When Mendelssohn was 
about to enter the orchestra at Birmingham, 
on the first performance of his "Elijah," he 
said, laughingly, to one of his friends and 
critics, " Stick your claws into me ! Don't 
tell me what you like, but what you don't 
Hke ! " 

The Best Training. 

It has been said, and truly, that it is the 
defeat that tries the general more than the 
victory. Washington lost more battles than 
he gained ; but he succeeded in the end- 
The Romans, in their most victorious cam- 
paigns, almost invariably began with defeats. 
Moreau used to be compared by his com- 
panions to a drum, which nobody hears of 
except it be beaten. Wellington's military 
genius was perfected by encounter with diffi- 
culties of apparently the most overwhelming 
character, but which only served to move his 
resolution, and bring out more prominently 
his great qualities as a man and a general. 
So the skilful mariner obtains his best experi- 
ence amid storms and tempests, which train 
him to self-reliance, courage, and the highest 
discipline ; and we probably owe to rough 
seas and wintry nights the best training of 
our race of seamen, who are certainly not 
surpassed by any in the world. 

Necessity may be a hard school-mistress, 
but she is generally found the best. Though 
the ordeal of adversity is one from which we 
naturally shrink, yet, when it comes, we must 
bravely and manfully encounter it. Bums 
says truly : 

"Though losses and crosses 
Be lessons right severe, 
There's wit there, you'll get there. 
You'll find no other where." 

"Sweet indeed are the uses of adversity." 
They reveal to us our powers, and call forth 



our energies. If there be real worth in the 
character, like sweet herbs, it will give forth. 
its finest fragrance when pressed. " Crosses," 
says the old proverb, " are the ladders that 
lead to heaven." "What is even poverty 
itself," asks Richter, " that a man should 
murmur under it ? It is but as the pain o! 
piercing a maiden's ear, and you hang prec- 
ious jewels in the wound." 

Prosperity not always Beneficial. 

In the experience of life it is found that the 
wholesome discipline of adversity in strong 
natures usually carries with it a self-preserv- 
ing influence. Many are found capable of 
bravely bearing up under privations, and 
cheerfully encountering obstructions, who 
are afterward found unable to withstand the 
more dangerous influences of prosperity. It 
is only a weak man whom the wind deprives 
of his cloak ; a man of average strength is- 
more in danger of losing it when assailed 
by the beams of a too genial sun. Thus it 
often needs a higher discipline and a stronger 
character to bear up under good fortune than 
under adverse. Some generous natures, 
kindle and warm with prosperity, but there 
are many on whom wealth has no such, 
influence. Base hearts it only hardens,, 
making those who are mean and servile,, 
mean and proud. 

But Avhile prosperity is apt to harden the 
heart to pride, adversity in a man of resolu- 
tion will serve to ripen it into fortitude. To 
use the words of Burke, "Difficulty is a 
severe instructor, set over us by the supreme 
ordinance of a parental Guardian and instruc- 
tor, who knows us better than we know our- 
selves, as He loves us better too. He that 
wrestles us strengthens our nerves, and 
sharpens our skill; our antagonist is thus 
our helper." Without the necessity of 
encountering difficulty, life might be easier, 



THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



95 



but men would be worth less. For trials, 
wisely improved, train the character, and 
teach self-help ; thus hardship itself may 
often prove the wholesomest discipline for 
us, though we recognize it not. 

When the gallant young Hodson, unjustly 
removed from his Indian command, felt 
himself sore pressed down by unmerited 
calumny and reproach, he yet preserved the 
courage to say to a friend, " I strive to look 
the worst boldly in the face, as I would an 
enemy in the field, and to do my appointed 
work resolutely and to the best of my ability, 
satisfied that there is a reason for all; and 
that even irksome duties well done bring 
their own reward, and that, if not, still they 
are duties." 

The battle of life is, in most cases, fought 
uphill; and to win it without a struggle 
were perhaps to win it without honor. If 
there were no difficulties there would be no 
success; if there were nothing to struggle 
for, there would be nothing to be achieved. 
Difficulties may intimidate the weak, but 
they act only as a wholesome stimulus to 
men of resolution and valor. All experience 
of life, indeed, serves to prove that the im- 
pediments thrown in the way of human 
advancement may, for the most part, be over- 
come by steady good conduct, honest zeal, 
activity, perseverance and, above all, by a de- 
termined resolution to surmount difficulties, 
and stand up manfully against misfortune. 

The Hill Difficulty. 

It is a weary hill 

Of moving sand that still 

Shifts, struggle as we will, 

Beneath our tread : 
Of those who went before, 
And tracked the desert o'er. 
The footmarks are no more. 

But gone and fled. 

I gaze on that bright band, 



Who on the summit stand, 
To order and command, 

Like stars on high : 
Yet with despairing pace 
My way I could retrace, 
Or on this desert place 

Sink down and die. 

As we who toil and weep, 
And with our weeping steep 
The path o'er which we creep. 

They had not striven ; 
They must have taken flight 
To that serenest lieight, 
And won it by the might 

Of wings from heaven. 
Richard Chenevix Trench. 



Grappling with Obstacles. 

The school of difficulty is the best school 
of moral discipline, for nations as for 
individuals. Indeed, the history of diffi- 
culty would be but a history of all the great 
and good things that have yet been accom- 
plished by men. It is hard to say how much 
northern nations owe to their encounter with 
a comparatively rude and changeable climate, 
and an originally sterile soil, which is one of 
the necessities of their condition — involving 
a perennial struggle with difficulties such as 
the natives of sunnier climes know nothing of. 
And thus it may be, that though our finest 
products are exotic, the skill and industry 
which have been necessary to rear them,, 
have issued in the production of a native 
growth of men not surpassed on the globe. 

Wherever there is difficulty, the individual 
man must come out for better or for worse. 
Encounter with it will train his strength, and 
discipline his skill ; heartening him for future 
effort, as the racer, by being trained to run 
up the high hill, at length courses with facility. 
The road to success may be steep to climb, 
and it puts to the proof the energies of him 
who would reach the summit. But by 
experience a man soon learns that obstacles 



m 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



are to be overcome by grappling with them ; 
that the nettle feels as soft as silk when it is 
boldly grasped ; and that the most effective 
help toward realizing the object proposed is 
the moral conviction that we can and will 
accomplish it. Thus difficulties often fall 
away of themselves before the determination 
to overcome them. 

"Try, Try Again." 

Much will be done if we do but try 
Nobody knows what he can do till he has 
tried ; and few try their best till they have 
been forced to do it. " If I could do such 
and such a thing," sighs the desponding 
youth. But nothing will be done if he only 
wishes. The desire must ripen into purpose 
and effort ; and one energetic attempt is 
worth a thousand aspirations. It is these 
thorny " ifs " — the mutterings of impotence 
and despair — which so often hedge round 
the field of possibility, and prevent anything 
being done or even attempted. " A diffi- 
culty," says a well-known author, " is a thing 
to be overcome ; " grapple with it at once ; 
facility will come with practice, and strength 
and fortitude with repeated effort. Thus the 
mind and character may be trained to an 
almost perfect discipline, and enabled to act 
with a grace, spirit and liberty, almost incom- 
prehensible to those who have not passed 
through a similar experience. 

Everything that we learn is the mastery or 
a difficulty ; and the mastery of one helps to 
the mastery of others. Things which may 
at first sight appear comparatively valueless 
in education — such as the study of the dead 
languages, and the relations of lines and sur- 
faces which we call mathematics — are really 
of the greatest practical value, not so much 
because of the information which they yield, 
as because of the development which they 
compel. The mastery of these studies 



evokes effort, and cultivates powers of appli- 
cation, which otherwise might have lain 
dormant. 

Thus one thing leads to another, and so 
the work goes on through life — encounter 
with difficulty ending only when life and 
culture end. But indulging in the feehng of 
discouragement never helped anyone over a 
difficulty, and never will. D'Alembert's 
advice to the student who complained to him 
about his want of success in mastering the 
first elements of mathematics was the right 
one, " Go on, sir, and faith and strength will 
come to you." 

Henry Clay's Advice to Young Men. 

The danseuse who turns a pirouette, the 
violinist who plays a sonata, have acquired 
their dexterity by patient repetition and after 
many failures. Carissimi, when praised for 
the ease and grace of his melodies, exclaimed, 
"Ah! you little know with what difficulty 
this ease has been acquired." Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, when once asked how long it had 
taken him to paint a certain picture, replied, 
"AU my life." 

When Dr. Lyman Beecher was asked how 
long it took him to prepare one of his mas- 
terly discourses that had just electrified 
thousands, he promptly repHed, " Forty 
years." Henry Clay, when giving advice to 
young men, said, "I owe my success in life 
to one circumstance, that at the age of 
twenty-seven I began and continued for 
years, the process of daily reading and 
speaking upon the contents of some histori- 
cal or scientific book. These off-hand efforts 
were made, sometimes in a corn-field, at 
others in the forest, and not unfrequently 
in some distant barn, with the horse and 
the ox for my auditors. It is to this early 
practice of the art of all arts that I am 
indebted for the primary and leading im- 



I 



98 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



pulses that stimulated me onward and have 
shaped and moulded my whole subsequent 
destiny." 

Curran, the Irish orator, when a youth, 
had a strong defect in his articulation, and at 
school he was known as "stuttering Jack 
Curran." While he was engaged in the 
study of the law, and still struggling to over- 
come his defect, he was stung into eloquence 
by the sarcasms of a member of a debating 
club, who characterized him as "Orator 
Mum ; " for, like Cowper, when he stood up 
to speak on a previous occasion, Curran had 
not been able to utter a word. The taunt 
stung him and he replied in a triumphant 
speech. 

Practice Makes Perfect. 

This accidental discovery in himself of the 
gift of eloquence encouraged him to proceed 
in his studies with renewed energy. He 
corrected his enunciation by reading aloud, 
emphatically and distinctly, the best passages 
■in literature for several hours every day, 
studying his features before a mirror, and 
adopting a method of gesticulation suited to 
his rather awkward and ungraceful figure. 
He also proposed cases to himself, which he 
argued with as much care as if he had been 
addressing a jury. 

Curran began business with the qualifica- 
tion which Lord Eldon stated to be the first 
requisite for distinction, that is, "to be not 
worth a shilling." While working his way 
laboriously at the bar, still oppressed by the 
diffidence which had overcome him in his 
debating club, he was on one occasion pro- 
voked by the Judge (Robinson) into making 
a very severe retort. In the case under dis- 
cussion, Curran observed, "that he had never 
met the law as laid down by his lordship in 
any book in his library." "That may be, 
sir," said the judge, in a contemptuous tone. 



"but I suspect that your library is v&cy 
small." His lordship was notoriously a 
furious political partisan, the author of several 
anonymous pamphlets characterized by un- 
usual violence and dogmatism. 

Curran, roused by the allusion to his- 
straightened circumstances, replied thus: "It 
is very true, my lord, that I am poor, and 
the circumstance has certainly curtailed my 
library ; my books are not numerous but 
they are select, and I hope they have been 
perused with proper dispositions. I have 
prepared myself for this high profession by 
the study of a few good works, rather than, 
by the composition of a great many bad 
ones. I am not ashamed of my poverty;. 
but I should be ashamed of my wealth,, 
could I have stooped to acquire it by servility 
and corruption. If I rise not to rank, I shall 
at least be honest ; and should I ever cease 
to be so, many an example shows me that 
an ill-gained elevation, by making me the 
more conspicuous, would only make me the 
more universally and the more notoriously- 
contemptible." 

Honorable Poverty. 

Be thou clad in russet weed, 
Be thou decked in silken stole. 
Grave these counsels on thy soul : 
Say man's true, genuine estimate. 
The grand criterion of his fate, 
Is not, art thou high or low ? 
Did thy fortune ebb or flow? 
Did many talents gild the span ? 
Or frugal nature grudge thee one ? 
Tell them, and press it on their mind, 
As thou thyself must shortly find, 
The smile or frown of awful Heaven 
To virtue or to vice is given. 
Say, to the just, and kind, and wise. 
There solid self-enjoyment lies ; 
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways, 
Lead to the wretched, vile, and base. 

Robert Burns. 

The extremest poverty has been no ob- 
stacle in the way of men devoted to the duty 



THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



/!♦> 



of self-culture. Professor Alexander Murray, 
the linguist, learned to write by scribbling 
his letters on an old wool-card with the end 
of a burned heather stem. The only book 
which his father, who was a poor shepherd, 
possessed, was a penny Shorter Catechism ; 
but that, being thought too valuable for 
common use, was carefully preserved in a 
cupboard for the Sunday catechizings. Pro- 
fessor Moor, when a young man, being too 
poor to purchase Newton's "Principia," bor- 
rowed the book, and copied the whole of it 
with his own hand. Many poor students, 
while laboring daily for their living, have 
only been able to snatch an atom of knowl- 
edge here and there at intervals, as birds do 
their food in winter time when the fields are 
covered with snow. They have struggled 
on, and faith and hope have come to them. 

The Pleasure of Hard Work. 

A well-known author and publisher, Wil- 
liam Chambers, of Edinburgh, speaking 
before an assemblage of young men in that 
city, thus briefly described to them his 
humble beginnings, for their encouragement : 
"I stand before you," he said, "a self- 
educated man. My education is that which 
is supplied at the humble parish schools of 
Scotland; and it was only when I went to 
Edinburgh, a poor boy, that I devoted my 
evenings, after the labors of the day, to the 
cultivation of that intellect which the Al- 
mighty has given me. From seven or eight 
in the morning till nine or ten at night was I 
at my business as a bookseller's apprentice, 
and it was only during hours after these, 
stolen from sleep, that I could devote myself 
to study. I did not read novels : my atten- 
tion was devoted to physical science, and 
other useful matters. I also taught myself 
French, I look back to those times with 
great pleasure, and am almost sorry I have 



not to go through the same cxpcri-.n-. cr 
again ; for I reaped more pleasure when I 
had not a sixpence in my poc":et, studying- 
in a garret in Edinburgh, than I now find- 
when sitting amid all the elegancies and 
comforts of a parlor." 

Story of Elihu Burritt. 

The story of the "learned blacksmith" is 
so interesting and instructive, and points so 
clearly to the true sources of success that 
we take pleasure in inserting it here. 

Elihu Burritt was the third son of a shoe- 
maker, the youngest of ten children. He 
was born in New Britain, Connecticut, on 
the 8th of December, 1810. The parents' 
of this distinguished man were a pious and 
amiable couple. When about sixteen years' 
of age, Elihu was apprenticed to a black- 
smith and made his home with his brother 
Elijah, an educated man, who had been 
driven from Georgia because of his anti- 
slavery proclivities. At one and twenty, 
when Elihu's apprenticeship expired, he 
became a student with his brother, who was 
the village schoolmaster. At the close of 
the term he returned to the shop, determined 
to make up the time he had lost, which he 
attempted to do by performing the work of 
two men and getting double pay. 

In 1 84 1 Burritt made his first appearance 
as a public lecturer, and about that time, or 
shortly after, he established a weekly paper 
entitled " The Christian Citizen." It was a 
very attractive, instructive and able paper. 
In its columns were articles of great value, 
and some of them have found their way into 
volumes of choice selections. In 1846 he 
made his first visit to England, where he 
published " Sparks from the Anvil." During 
the potato famine in Ireland, his appeals to 
his fellow-countrymen for aid met with 
generous responses. In 1863 Mr. Burritt 



\ 



100 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



made a second visit to England, and during 
the summer season he walked from London 
to John O'Groat's, the most northern point of 
Scotland, and afterward gave an account of 
his journey in a fascinating book. 

Left an Honored Name. 

Two years later, 'resident Lincoln ap- 
apointed him to the -^fifice of U. S. Consul 
at Birmingham, and for five years he filled 
the position with honor to his country and 
credit to himself His leisure was filled with 
literary labor and occasional speech-making 
in favor of temperance, peace, international 
arbitration, coperative employment, cheap 
Postage, etc. He was an emphatic and 
enthusiastic advocate of peace, writing 
essays and delivering addresses, and doing 
all that he could to help the cause along. 
In 1870 he returned to his native town, 
where he died on the 8th of March, 1879. 
In the words of Mr. Frederick Sherlock, in 
liis beautiful book entitled " Illustrious Ab- 
stainers," " He left to his country the sweet 
fragrance of a name which will be ever 
honored as amongst the noblest of the age 
in. which he lived, and bequeathed to the 
world a glorious example of self-culture, 
which, we doubt not, will be potential for 
good through all time." 

What a lesson is here in the life of this 
good man. The son of a poor shoemaker; 
a . blacksmith's apprentice and student; a 
journeynian, mastering many languages; a 
lecturer, editor and author; an iconoclast 
reformer, swinging his battle-axe with more 
force than he did the hammer ; a representa- 
tive man at home and abroad, admired and 
honored for his learning and culture, and for 
his great ability. Above and beyond all 
this, he was a modest, Christian gentleman, 
seeking in every way to proclaim the gospel 
of "peace on earth and goodwill to men." 



Some men are not so great in their own 
estimation as they are in that of others. 
What they have done has been the result 
of such a gradual preparation, that they are 
not conscious of their own power, and their 
deeds have been so long before the world 
that they have become household names. 
Some never blow their own trumpet, but 
keep themselves quite behind the curtain, 
and present their cause in a modest, yet 
earnest manner. Such generally succeed in 
their undertakings, and eventually secure 
lasting fame if their cause is a worthy one. 

His Works Spoke for Him. 

Those who talk about themselves more 
than about their cause are sure to fail, and 
they merit the contempt they have earned. 
It is easy to be courageous when there is no 
danger, but cowardly in times of great diffi- 
culty. Some spend their time in boasting in 
a pompous manner what they intend to do, 
but never commence the task while others 
do the work, and let it speak for itself. 

Elihu Burritt's works spoke for him. This 
remarkable man, who was a living, speaking 
polyglott,was also an excellent mathematician. 
Figures tumbled from his pencil like seeds 
from a sack. He commanded a graphic pen, 
and some of his essays and sketches are 
classed with the best efforts in the language. 
He was also a good Samaritan, a philanthro- 
pist and reformer, with a soft heart in his 
bosom. Believing that God made of one 
blood all the nations of the earth, he aimed 
to unite them by the fraternal links of brother- 
hood. He looked upon war as an inexcusable 
evil, and labored manfully for its extinction. 
He would dismantle the arsenal, disband the 
army, spike the cannon and reforge the sword 
and cutlass, turning them into agricultural 
implements. He would take our ships of war 
and lade them to the water's edge with food 



THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



101 



and clothing for the poor. He said the bal- 
Ust should be round clams, or the real 
juahaugs, heavy as cast-iron and capital for 
roasting. Then he would build along up, 
filling every square inch with well-cured pro- 
provisions. He would have a hogshead of 
bacon mounted into every porthole, each of 
which should discharge fifty hams a minute 
when the ship was brought into action, and 



thrown into Keil by the besieging armies ; 
he would barricade the low, narrow streets 
with loaves of bread, would throw up a 
breastwork clear around the market-place of 
barrels of flour, pork and beef, and in the 
middle raise a stack of salmon and codfish as 
large as a Methodist meeting-house, with a 
steeple to it, and the bell should ring to all 
the city bells, and the city bells should ring 




lllj ■iiin iiMiiiim 



sfi^ K 




THE SOLDIER S DREAM. 



the State-rooms should be filled with well- 
made garments, and the taut cordage and the 
long tapering spires should be festooned 
with boys' jackets and trowsers. 

Then, when there should be no more room 
for another codfish or herring or sprig of 
catnip, he would run up the white flag of 
peace. He would throw as many hams into 
a famine-stricken city in twenty-four hours 
as there were bomb-shells and cannon-balls 



to all the people to come to market and buy 
provisions without money and without price 
And white flags should everywhere wave 
in the breeze on the vanes of steeples, on 
mastheads, on flagstones along the embat- 
tled walls, on the ends of willow sticks borne 
by romping, laughing, trooping children. 
All the blood-colored drapery of war should 
bow and blush before the stainless standard 
of peace. 



^ 



102 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



It is a notable fact that the great majority 
of American boys who have become famous 
had to struggle hard with poverty. It is 
related of Martin Van Buren that he used to 
learn his lessons in the evening by the light 
of a pine knot, blazing in the old country 
fireplace. This was cheaper than even a 
tallow candle. 

A Poor, Barefooted Boy. 

Sir Walter Scott was accustomed to cite 
the case of his young friend John Leyden as 
•one of the most remarkable illustrations of 
the power of perseverance which he had ever 
known. The son of a shepherd in one of 
the wildest valleys in Roxburgshire, he was 
almost entirely self-educated. Like many 
Scotch shepherds' sons — like Hogg, who 
taught himself to write by copying the letters 
of a printed book as he lay watching his 
flock on the hillside — like Cairns, who from 
•tending sheep on the Lammermoors, raised 
himself by dint of application and industry to 
.the professor's chair which he filled with 
honor— like Murray, Ferguson and many 
more, Leyden was early inspired by a thirst 
for knowledge. When a poor barefooted 
boy he walked si.x or eight miles across the 
moors daily to learn reading at the little 
village schoolhouse of Kirkton ; and this 
was all the education he received ; the rest 
lie acquired for himself 

He found his way to Edinburgh to attend 
the college there, setting the extremest pen- 
ury at defiance. He was first discovered as 
the frequenter of a small booksellers' shop 
kept by Archibald Constable, afterward so 
well known as a publisher. He would pass 
hour after hour perched on a ladder in mid- 
air, with some great folio in his hand, forget- 
ful of the scanty meal of bread and water 
which awaited him at his miserable lodging. 
Access to books and lectures comprised all 



within the bounds of his wishes. Thus he 
toiled and battled at the gates of science untiJ 
his unconquerable perseverance carried every- 
thing before it. 

Before he had attained his nineteenth year 
he had astonished all the professors in Edin- 
burgh by his profound knowledge of Greek 
and Latin, and the general mass of informa- 
tion he had acquired. Having turned his 
views to India, he sought employment in the 
civil service, but failed. He was, however, 
informed that a surgeon's assistant's commis- 
sion was open to him. But he was no 
surgeon, and knew no more of the profes- 
sion than a child. He could, however, learn. 
Then he was told that he must be ready to 
pass in six months 1 Nothing daunted, he 
took his degree with honor. Scott and a 
few friends helped to fit him out; and he 
sailed for India, after publishing his beautiful 
poem, " The Scenes of Infancy." In India 
he promised to become one of the greatest 
of Oriental scholars, but was unhappily cut 
off by fever caught by exposure, and died 
at an early age. 

A Dull Genius. 

The life of the late Dr. Lee, Professor of 
Hebrew at Cambridge, furnishes one of the 
most remarkable instances in modern times 
of the power of patient perseverance and 
resolute purpose in working out an honor- 
able career in literature. He received his 
education at a charity school at Lognor, 
Shrewsbury, but so little distinguished him- 
self there, that his master pronounced him 
one of the dullest boys that ever passed 
through his hands. 

He was put apprentice to a carpenter, and 
worked at that trade until he arrived at man- 
hood. To occupy his leisure hours he took 
to reading; and, some of the books contain- 
ing Latin quotations, he became desirous of 



THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



103 



ascertaining what they meant. He bought a 
Latin grammar, and proceeded to learn Latin. 
As Stone, the Duke of Argyle's gardener, 
said, long before, " Does one need to know 
anything more than the twenty-four letters 
in order to learn everything else that one 
wishes." Lee rose early and sat up late, and 
sat up late, and he succeeded in mastering 
the Latin before his apprenticeship was out. 
While working one day in some place of 
worship, a copy of a Greek Testament fell 
in his way, and he was immediately filled 
with the desire to learn that language. He 
accordingly sold some of his Latin books, 
and purchased a Greek Grammar and Lexi- 
con. Taking pleasure in learning, he soon 
mastered the language. 

" The Learned Carpenter." 
Then he sold his Greek books, and bought 
Hebrew ones, and learned that language, 
-unassisted by any instructor, without any 
hope of fame or reward, but simply following 
the bent of his genius. He next proceeded 
to learn the Chaldee, Syriac and Samaritan 
dialects. But his studies began to tell upon 
his health, and brought on disease in his 
eyes through his long night-watchings with 
his books. Having laid them aside for a 
time and recovered his health, he went on 
with his daily work. His character as a 
tradesman being excellent, his business im- 
proved, and his means enabled him to marry, 
which he did when twenty-eight years old. 

He determined now to devote himself to 
the maintenance of his family, and to re- 
nounce the luxury of literature; accordingly 
he sold all his books. He might have con- 
tinued a working carpenter all his life, had 
not the chest of tools upon which he de- 
pended for subsistence been destroyed by 
fire, and destitution stared him in the face. 
He was too poor to buy new tools, so he 



bethought him of teaching children their let- 
ters — a profession requiring the least possi- 
ble capital. But though he had mastered 
many languages, he was so defective in the 
common branches of knowledge, that at first 
he could not teach them. Resolute of pur- 
pose, however, he assiduously set to work, 
and taught himself arithmetic and writing to 
such a degree as to be able to impart the 
knowledge of these branches to little chil- 
dren. 

The Top Round of the Ladder. 

His unaffected, simple and beautiful char, 
acter gradually attracted friends, and the 
acquirements of the "learned carpenter" 
became bruited abroad. Dr. Scott, a neigh- 
boring clergyman, obtained for him the 
appointment of master of a charity school 
in Shrewsbury, and introduced him to a 
distinguished Oriental scholar. These friends 
supplied him with books, and Lee succes- 
sively mastered Arabic, Persic and Hin- 
dostanee. He continued to pursue his 
studies while on duty as a private in the 
local militia of the county ; gradually acquir- 
ing greater proficiency in languages. At 
length his kind patron. Dr. Scott, enabled 
Lee to enter Queen's College, Cambridge; 
and after a course of study, in which he 
distinguished himself by his mathematical 
acquirements, a vacancy occurring in the 
professorship of Arabic and Hebrew, he 
was worthily elected to fill the honorable 
office. 

Besides ably performing his duties as a 
professor, he voluntarily gave much of his 
time to the instruction of missionaries going 
forth to preach the Gospel to Eastern tribes 
in their own tongue. He also made transla- 
tions of the Bible into several Asiatic dia- 
lects ; and having mastered the New Zealand 
language, he arranged a grammar and 



104 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



vocabulary for two New Zealand chiefs who 
Were then in England, which books are now 
in daily use in the New Zealand schools. 
Such, in brief, is the remarkable history of 
Dr. Samuel Lee; and it is but the counter- 
part of numerous similarly instructive exam- 
ples of the power of perseverance in self- 
culture, as displayed in the lives of many of 
the most distinguished of our literary and 
scientific men. 

An Iron "Will and a Stout Heart. 

Faith, firmness, confidence, consistency — these are 

well allied ; 
Yea, let a man press on in aught, he shall not lack 

of honor : 
For such a one seemeth as superior to the native 

instability of creatures ; 
That he doeth, he doeth as a god, and men will 

marvel at his courage. 
Fven in crimes, a partial praise cannot be denied to 

daring, 
And many fearless chiefs have won the friendship of 

a foe. 

Confidence is conqueror of men ; victorious both 

over them and in them ; 
The iron will of one stout heart shall make a thou- 
sand quail : 
A feeble dwarf, dauntlessly resolved, will turn the 

tide of battle. 
And rally to a nobler strife the giants that had fled : 
The tenderest child, unconscious of a fear, will 

shame the man to danger. 
And when he dared it, danger died, and faith had 

vanquished fear. 
Boldness is akin to power : yea, because ignorance 

is weakness, 
[Knowledge with unshrinking might will nerve the 

vigorous hand. 

M. F. TUPPER. 

There are many other illustrious names 
which might be cited to prove the truth of 
the common saying that "it is never too late 
to learn." Even at advanced years men can 
do much, if they will determine on making 
a beginning. Benjamin Franklin was fifty 
before he fully entered upon the study of 
Natural Philosophy. Dryden and Scott 



were not known as authors until each was 
in his fortieth year. James Watt, when 
about forty, while working at his trade of 
an instrument-maker in Glasgow, learned 
French, German and Italian, to enable him- 
self to peruse the valuable works on me- 
chanical philosophy which existed in those 
languages. Handel was forty-eight before 
he published any of his great works. In- 
deed, hundreds of instances might be given 
of men who struck out an entirely new path, 
and successfully entered on new studies, at a 
comparatively advanced time of life. None 
but the frivolous or the indolent will say, " I 
am too old to learn." 

Men who Move the 'World. 

And here we would repeat what we have 
said before, that it is not men of genius who 
move the world and take the lead in it, so 
much as men of steadfastness, purpose and 
indefatigable industry. Notwithstanding the 
many undeniable instances of the precocity 
of men of genius, it is nevertheless true that 
early cleverness gives no indication of the 
height to which the grown man will reach. 
Precocity is sometimes a symptom of disease 
rather than of intellectual vigor. 

What becomes of all the "remarkably 
clever children?" Where are the prodigies 
and prize-boys? Trace them through life,, 
and it will frequently be found that the dull 
boys, who were beaten at school, have shot 
ahead of them. The clever boys are re- 
warded, but the prizes which they gain by 
their greater quickness and facility do not 
always prove of use to them. What ought 
rather to be rewarded is the endeavor, the 
struggle and the obedience; for it is the 
youth who does his best, though endowed 
with an inferiority of natural powers, that 
ought above all others to be encouraged. 

An interesting chapter might be written 



The Royal Road. 

One step I see before me ; 

'Tis all I need to see ; 
The light of heaven more brightlyS^J 
shines 

When earth's illusions flee, 
And sweetly through the silence comes 

His loving " Follow Me." 
Where He may lead I'll follow. 

My trust in Him repose, 
And every hour in perfect peac'? 

I'll sina, "He knows H;- tvnws." 




i 



of wisdom, 
sed not to know ; 
ne with His own right han(? 
. not let me go, 
ny troubled soul to rest 
' who loves me so. 

v3u uii J- K". not knowing 

I would not if I might ; 
I'd rather walk in the dark with God 

Than go alone in the light ; 
I'd rather walk by faith with Him 

Than go alone by sight. 

Mary G. Brainari>, 



106 



THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 



on the subject of illustrious dunces — dull 
boys, but brilliant men. We have room, 
however, for only a few instances. Isaac 
Newton, when at school, stood at the bot- 
tom of the lowest form but one. The boy 
above Newton having kicked him, the dunce 
showed his pluck by challenging him to a 
fight, and beat him. Then he set to work 
with a will, and determined also to vanquish 
his antagonist as a scholar, which he did, 
rising to the top of his class. 

Brilliant Dunces. 

Many of our greatest divines have been 
anything but precocious. Isaac Barrow, 
when a boy at the Charterhouse School, 
was notorious chiefly for his strong temper, 
pugnacious habits, and proverbial idleness 
as a scholar; and he caused such grief to 
his parents that his father used to say that, 
if it pleased God to take from him any of 
his children, he hoped it might be Isaac, the 
least promising of them all. Adam Clarke, 
when a boy, was proclaimed by his father to 
be "a grievous dunce;" though he could 
roll large stones about. The well-known 
Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cook, late Professor 
of Moral Philosophy at St. Andrew's, were 
boys together at the parish school; and they 
were found so stupid and mischievous, that 
the master, irritated beyond measure, dis- 
missed them both as incorrigible dunces. 

The brilliant Sheridan showed so little 
capacity as a boy, that he was presented to 
a tutor by his mother with the compHmen- 
tary accompaniment that he was an incor- 
rigible dunce. Walter Scott was all but a 
dunce when a boy. At the Edinburgh Uni- 
versity, Professor Dalzell pronounced upon 
him the sentence that " Dunce he was, and 
dunce he would remain." Chatterton was 
returned on his mother's hands as "a fool, 
■of whom nothing could be made." Burns 



was a dull boy, good only at athletic exer- 
cises. Goldsmith spoke of himself as a 
plant that flowered late. Alfieri left college 
no wiser than he entered it, and did not 
begin the studies by which he distinguished 
himself until he had run half over Europe. 
Robert Clive was a dunce, if not a repro- 
bate, when a youth ; but always full of energy, 
even in badness. His family, glad to get rid 
of him, shipped him off to Madras ; and he 
lived to lay the foundations of the British 
power in India. Napoleon and Wellington 
were both dull boys, not distinguishing them- 
selves in any way at school. A writer ob- 
serves that the Duke's talents seem never 
to have developed themselves until some 
active and practical field for their display 
was placed immediately before him. He 
was long described by his Spartan mother, 
who thought him a dunce, as only "food for 
powder." He gained no sort of distinction, 
either at Eton or at the French Military Col- 
lege of Angers. It is not improbable that a 
competitive examination, at this da)'-, might 
have excluded him from the army. 

Grant and Stonewall Jackson. 

Ulysses Grant, the commander-in-chief of 
the Federal army, was called "Useless Grant" 
by his mother — he was so dull and unhandy 
when a boy; and Stonewall Jackson, Lee's 
greatest lieutenant, was, in his youth, chiefly 
noted for his slowness. While a pupil at 
West Point Military Academy he was, how- 
ever, equally remarkable for his indefatigable 
application and perseverance. When a task 
was set him, he never left it until he had 
mastered it ; nor did he ever feign to possess 
knowledge which he had not entirely ac- 
quired. "Again and again," wfote one who 
knew him, "when called upon to answer 
questions in the recitation oi the day, he 
would reply: 'I have not looked at it; I 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



107 



have been engaged in mastering the recita- 
tion of yesterday or the day before.' The 
result was that he graduated seventeenth in 
a class of seventy. There was probably in 
the whole class not a boy to whom Jackson 
at the outset was not inferior in knowledge 
and attainments; but at the end of the race 
he had only sixteen before him, and had out- 
stripped no fewer than fifty-three. It used 
to be said of him by his contemporaries, that 
if the course had been for ten years instead 
of four, Jackson would have graduated at 
the head of his class." 

The Swift Tortoise. 

John Howard, the philanthropist, was 
another illustrious dunce, learning next to 
nothing during the seven years that he was 
at school. The brilliant Sir Humphry Davy 
was no cleverer than other boys : his teacher, 
Dr. Cardew, once said of him: "While he 
was with me I could not discern the faculties 
by which he was so much distinguished." 
Indeed, Davy himself in after life considered 
it fortunate that he had been left to "enjoy 
so much idleness" at school. Watt was a 
dull scholar, notwithstanding the stories told 
about his precocity; but he was, what was 
better, patient and perseverant, and it was by 
such qualities, and by his carefully cultivated 
inventiveness, that he was enabled to perfect 
his steam-engine. 

What Dr. Arnold said of boys is equally 
true of men — that the difference between one 
boy and another consists not so much in 
talent as in energy. Given perseverance, and 
energy soon becomes habitual. Provided 
the dunce has persistency and application, 
he will inevitably head the cleverer fellow 
without those qualities. Slow but sure wins 



the race. It is perseverance that explams 
how the positions of boys at school are so 
often reversed in real life ; and it is curious 
to note how some who were then so clever 
have since become so commonplace ; while 
others, dull boys, of whom nothing was 
expected, slow in their faculties but sure in 
their pace, have assumed the position of 
leaders of men. 

The tortoise in the right road will beat a 
racer in the wrong. It matters not, though 
a youth be slow, if he be but diligent. 
Quickness of parts may even prove a defect,- 
inasmuch as the boy who learns readily will 
often forget as readily ; and also because he 
finds no need of cultivating that quality of 
application and perseverance which the slower 
youth is compelled to exercise, and which 
proves so valuable an element in the forma- 
tion of every character. Davy said, " What 
I am I have made myself; " and the same 
holds true universally. 

To conclude: the best culture is not 
obtained from teachers when at school or 
college, so much as by our own diligent 
self-education when we have become men. 
Hence parents need not be in too great haste 
to see their children's talents forced into 
bloom. Let them watch and wait patiently, 
letting good example and quiet training do 
their work, and leave the rest to Providence. 
Let them see to it that the youth is provided, 
by free exercise of his bodily powers, with a 
full stock of physical health ; set him fairly 
on the road of self-culture; carefully train 
his habits of application and perseverance ; 
and as he grows older, if the right stuff be in 
him, he will be enabled vigorously and 
effectively to cultivate himself, and make 
sure of success. 



k 




108 



MANUAL TRAINING SCHOOL, 



4 



CHAPTBR VI. 
THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 




OU may go to school all your 
life and yet be a dunce. Your 
head may be a library stuffed 
with book knowledge, yet you 
may not know enough to hoe 
a hill of beans. You may lack 
that practical wisdom and tact which make 
a success of life. You may be like the man 
who invented a folding-bed, got shut up in 
it, set to work to invent a way to get out, 
while his wife with hammer and saw liberated 
him just as he was about smothering to 
death. You may have talents bright as the 
sun, yet be dependent on very ordinary 
people. You may be a know-everything and 
a do-nothing. 

It is well to have knowledge and be famous 
for learning and general information. If 
success came from the knowing, you would 
be fortunate. The world is full of learned 
dunces. They can expound politics, foretell 
the weather, quote history, spin theories as 
long as an ocean cable, discourse on phil- 
osophy and religion, be reckoned as men of 
wonderful attainments, and live on what their 
"wives earn by doing washing for their 
neighbors. 

You may be a very successful dreamer 
and theorizer, yet in practical life — bread- 
and-butter life — you may be a big failure — 
a failure even compared with the dusky boot- 
black around the corner who can shine a 
pair of shoes and do it well. This is not 
saying knowledge and education are of no 
account ; it is saying that you may lack a 
certain tact, a power of applying what you 



know, and may utterly fail in the practical 
work of hfe. 

Who learns and learns, but acts not what he knows, 
Is one who ploughs and ploughs, but never sows. 

The world will not start of itself and go 
for you. You must make it go. It will not 
turn round while you look on and do noth- 
ing. It will turn round if you are at the 
crank to make it turn. And you must know 
how to do the turning. Do not stand still 
and look on ; you may stand and stare until 
the heavens roll together and be no better 
for it. You cannot save your linen ; it will 
get soiled. Never mind, but roll up your 
sleeves and go at it. Better soiled linen than 
none at all. You cannot play the gentle- 
man if you ever expect to accomplish any- 
thing of importance. Of all the big fortunes 
in New York, Philadelphia, Chicago and 
other cities, every one was made by hard 
work and "horny hands;" not one would 
know a pair of kid gloves without an intro- 
duction. 

You Must Face the Hard Facts. 

We have been speaking of practical 
wisdom, and practical wisdom is only to be 
learned in the school of experience. Pre- 
cepts and instructions are useful so far as 
they go, but, without the discipline of real 
life, they remain of the nature of theory onlyo 
The hard facts of existence have to be faced, 
to give that touch of truth to character which 
can never be imparted by reading or tuition, 
but only by contact with the broad instincts 
of common men and women. 

109 



no 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



To be worth anything, character must be 
capable of standing firm upon its feet in the 
world of daily work, temptation, and trial; 
and able to bear the wear-and-tear of actual 
life. Cloistered virtues do not count for 
much. The life that rejoices in solitude may 
be only rejoicing in selfishness. Seclusion 
may indicate contempt for others; though 
more usually it means indolence, cowardice, 
or self-indulgence. To every human being 
belongs his fair share of manful toil and 
human duty ; and it cannot be shirked with- 
out loss to the individual himself, as well as 
to the community to which he belongs. 

You Must Know Yourself. 

It is only by mixing in the daily life of the 
world, and taking part in its affairs, that 
practical knowledge can be acquired and 
wisdom learned. It is there that we find 
our chief sphere of duty, that we learn the 
discipline of work, and that we educate 
ourselves in that patience, diligence, and 
endurance which shape and consolidate the 
character. There we encounter the diffi- 
culties, trials, and temptations which, accord- 
ing as we deal with them, give a color to 
our entire after-life ; and there, too, we 
become subject to the great discipline of 
suffering, from which we learn far more than 
from the safe seclusion of the study or the 
cloister. 

Contact with others is also requisite to 
enable a man to know himself. It is only 
by mixing freely in the world that one can 
form a proper estimate of his own capacity. 
Without such experience, one is apt to be- 
come conceited, puffed up, and arrogant; at 
all events, he will remain ignorant of him- 
self, though he may heretofore have enjoyed 
no other company. 

Swift once said : " It is an uncontroverted 
truth, that no man ever made an ill-figure 



who understood his own talents, nor a good 
one who mistook them." Many persons, 
however, are readier to take measure of the 
capacity of others than of themselves. 
" Bring him to me," said a certain Dr. 
Tronchin, of Geneva, speaking of Rous- 
seau — "bring him to me, that I may see 
whether he has got anything in him!" — 
the probability being that Rousseau, who 
knew himself better, was much more likely 
to take measure of Tronchin than Tronchin 
was to take measure of him. 

A due amount of self-knowledge is, there- 
fore, necessary for those who would be any- 
thing or do anything in the world. It is 
also one of the first essentials to the forma- 
tion of distinct personal convictions. Fred- 
erick Perthes once said to a young friend, 
"You know only too well what you can do; 
but till you have learned what you cannot 
do, you will neither accomplish anything of 
moment nor know inward peace." 

The Value of Common Sense. 

Any one who would profit by experience 
will never be above asking help. He who 
thinks himself already too wise to learn of 
others, will never succeed in doing anything 
either good or great. We have to keep our 
minds and hearts open, and never be ashamed 
to learn, with the assistance of those who 
are wiser and more experienced than our- 
selves. 

The man made wise by experience en- 
deavors to judge correctly of the things 
which come under his observation, and form 
the subject of his daily life. What we call 
common sense is, for the most part, but the 
result of common experience wisely improved. 
Nor is great ability necessary to acquire it, 
so much as patience, accuracy and watchful- 
ness. Hazlitt thought the most sensible 
people to be met with are intelligent mea 



THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 



Ill 



of business and of the world, who argue 
from what they see and know, instead of 
spinning cobweb distinctions of what things 
ought to be. 

The Tact of Women. 

For the same reason, women often display- 
more good sense than men, having fewer 
pretensions, and judging of things naturally, 
by the involuntary impression they make on 
the mind. Their intuitive powers are quicker, 
their perceptions more acute, their sympathies 
more lively, and their manners more adaptive 
to particular ends. Hence their greater tact 
as displayed in the management of others, 
women of apparently slender intellectual 
powers often contriving to control and regu- 
late the conduct of men of even the most 
impracticable nature. Pope paid a high 
compliment to the tact and good sense of 
Mary, Queen of William HI, when he de- 
scribed her as possessing, not a science, but 
(what was worth all else) prudence. 

The whole of life may be regarded as a 
great school of experience, in which men and 
women are the pupils. As in a school, many 
of the lessons learned there must needs be 
taken on trust. We may not understand 
them, and may possibly think it hard that 
we have to learn them, especially where the 
teachers are trials, sorrows, temptations and 
difficulties; and yet we must not only accept 
their lessons, but recognize them as being 
divinely appointed. 

To what extent have the pupils profited 
by their experience in the school of life? 
What advantage have they taken of their 
opportunities for learning? What have they 
gained in discipline of heart and mind? — 
how much in growth of wisdom, courage, 
self-control? Have they preserved their 
integrity amidst prosperity, and enjoyed life 
in temperance and moderation? Or, has life 



been with them a mere feast of selfishness,, 
without care or thought for others? What 
have they learned from trial and adversity?' 
Have they learned patience, submission and- 
trust in God? Or have they learned nothing, 
but impatience, querulousness and discon- 
tent? 

The results of experience are, of course,, 
only to be achieved by living; and living is 
a question of time. The man of experience- 
learns to rely upon time as his helper. 
"Time and I against any two," was a maxim 
of Cardinal Mazarin. Time has been de- 
scribed as a beautifier and as a consoler; 
but it is also a teacher. It is the food of 
experience, the soil of wisdom. It may be 
the friend or the enemy of youth; and time 
will sit beside the old as a consoler or as a 
tormentor, accordmg as it has been used or 
misused, and the past life has been well or 
ill spent. 

Ins Web of Time. 

Ceaselessly the weaver, Time, 

Sitteth at his mj'stic loom. 
Keeps his arrowy shuttle flying — 
Every thread anears our dying — 
And with melancholy chime, 
Very low and sad withal, 
Sings his solemn madrigal 

As he weaves our web of doom. 
" Mortals ! " thus he, weaving, sings, 

" Bright or dark the web shall be, 
As ye will it, all the tissues 
Blending in harmonious issues 
Or discordant colorings ; 
Time the shuttle drives, but you 
Give to every thread its hue, 

And elect your destiny. ' ' 

W. H. BURI,EIGH. 

Making the Most of To-Day. 

For To-day the lists are set, and thou must bear thee 
bravely. 

Tilting for honor, duty, life or death without re- 
proach : 

To-day is the trial of thy fortitude, O dauntless 
Mandan chief ! 



112 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



To-day is thy watch, O sentinel ; to-day thy reprieve, 
O captive-, 

What more? To-day is the golden chance -where- 
with to snatch fruition. 

Be glad, grateful, temperate : there are asps among 
the figs. 

For the potter's clay is in thy hands, to mould it or 
to mar it at thy will. 

Or idly to leave it in the sun, an uncouth lump to 
harden. 

bright presence of To-day, let me wrestle with 

thee, gracious angel ; 

1 will not let thee go except thou bless me ; bless 

me, then. To-day; 

sweet garden of To-day, let me gather of thee, 

precious Eden ; 

1 have stolen bitter knowledge, give me fruits of life 

To-day ; 

true temple of To-day, let me worship in thee, 

glorious Zion ; 

1 find none other place nor time than where I am 

To-day, 

living rescue of To-day, let me run unto thee, ark 

of refuge ; 

1 see none other hope nor chance, but standeth in 

To-day ; 

rich banquet of To-day, let me feast upon thee, 

saving manna ; 

1 have none other food nor store, but daily bread 

To-day ! 

M. V. TUPPER. 

How to Meet Discouragements. 

To the young, how bright the new world 
lootcs! — how full of novelty, of enjoyment, 
of pleasure! But as years pass, we find the 
world to be a place of sorrow as well as of 
joy. As we proceed through life, many 
dark vistas open upon us — of toil, suffering, 
difficulty, perhaps misfortune and failure. 
Happy they who can pass through and 
amidst such trials with a firm mind and 
pure heart, encountering trials with cheer- 
fulness, and standing erect beneath even the 
heaviest burden! 

A little youthful ardor is a great help in 
life, and is useful as an energetic motive- 
power. It is gradually cooled down by 
time, no matter how glowing it has been. 



while it is trained and subdued by expe- 
rience. But it is a healthy and hopeful 
indication of character — to be encouraged 
in a right direction, and not to be sneered 
down and repressed. It is a sign of a 
vigorous, unselfish nature, as egotism is of 
a narrow and selfish one; and to begin life 
with egotism and self-sufficiency is fatal to 
all breadth and vigor of character. Life, 
in such a case, would be like a year in which 
there was no spring. 

The Spring-Time of Life. 

Without a generous seed-time, there will 
be an unflowering summer and an unpro- 
ductive harvest. And youth is the spring- 
time of life, in which, if there be not a fair 
share of enthusiasm, little will be attempted, 
and still less done. It also considerably 
helps the working quality, inspiring confi- 
dence and hope, and carrying c^=i through 
the dry details of business and duty with 
cheerfulness and joy. 

Joseph Lancaster, when a boy only four- 
teen years of age, formed the resolution ot 
leaving his home and going out to the West 
Indies to teach the poor blacks to read the 
Bible. And he actually set out with a Bible 
and "Pilgrim's Progress" in his bundle, and 
only a few shillings in his purse. He even 
succeeded in reaching the West Indies, doubt- 
less very much at a loss how to set about 
his proposed work; but in the mean time 
his distressed parents, having discovered 
whither he had gone, had him speedily 
brought back, yet with his enthusiasm 
unabated; and from that time forward he 
unceasingly devoted himself to the truly 
philanthropic work of educating the desitute 
poor. 

He was only twenty years of age when he 
opened his first school in a spare room in his 
father's house, which was soon filled with the 



THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 



113' 



destitute children of the neighborhood. The 
room was shortly found too small for the 
numbers seeking admission, and one place 
after another was hired, until at length Lan- 
caster had a special building erected, capable 
of accommodating a thousand pupils, outside 
of which was placed the following notice: 
"All that will, may send their children here 
and have them educated freely; and those 
that do not wish to have education for noth- 
ing may pay for it, if they please." 

Perseverance of Columbus. 

There needs all the force that enthusiasm 
can give to enable a man to succeed in any 
great enterprise of life. Without it, the ob- 
struction and difiticulty he has to encounter 
on every side might compel him to succumb ; 
but with courage and perseverance, inspired 
by enthusiasm, a man feels strong enough to 
face any danger, to grapple with any diffi- 
culty. What an enthusiasm was that of 
Columbus, who, believing in the existeaice of 
a new world, braved the dangers of unknown 
seas ; and when those about him despaired 
and rose up against him, threatening to cast 
him into the sea, still stood firm upon his 
hope and courage until the great new world 
at length rose upon the horizon ! 

The brave man will not be baffled, but 
tries and tries again until he succeeds. The 
tree does not fall at the first stroke, but only 
by repeated strokes and after great labor. 
We may see the visible success at which a 
man has arrived, but forget the toil and 
suffering and peril through which it has been 
achieved. When a friend of Marshal Lefevre 
was complim'enting him on his possessions 
and good fortune, the marshal said : " You 
envy me, do you? Well, you shall have 
these things at a better bargain than I had. 
Come into the field : I'll fire at you with a 
gun twenty times at thirty paces, and if I 



don't kill you, all shall be your own. What!: 
you won't! Very well; recollect, then, that 
I have been shot at more than a thousand- 
times, and much nearer, before I arrived ati 
the state in which you now find me ! " 

The apprenticeship of difficulty is orre- 
which the greatest of men have had to serve. 
It is usually the best stimulus and discipline- 
of character. It often evokes powers of 
action that, but for it, would have remained! 
dormant. As comets are sometimes revealed 
by eclipses, so heroes are brought to light 
by sudden calamity. It seems as if, in cer- 
tain case.-,, genius, like iron struck by the 
flint, needed the sharp and sudden blow of 
adversity to bring out the divine spark. 
There are natures which blossom and ripen 
amidst trials, which would only wither and 
decay in an atmosphere of ease and comfort. 

Difficulties are Blessings. 

Thus it is good for men to be roused into 
action and stiffened into self-reliance by 
difficulty, rather than to slumber away their 
lives in useless apathy and indolence. It is 
the struggle that is the condition of victory. 
If there were no difficulties, there would be no 
need of efforts ; if there were no temptations, 
there would be no training in self-control, 
and but httle merit in virtue; if there were 
no trial and suffering, there would be no 
education in patience and resignation. Thus 
difficulty, adversity, and suffering are not all 
evil, but often the best source of strength, 
discipline, and virtue. 

For the same reason, it is often of advan- 
tage for a man to be under the necessity of 
having to struggle with poverty and conquer 
it. "He who has battled," says Carlyle, 
" were it only with poverty and hard toil, 
will be found stronger and more expert than 
he who could stay at home from the battle, 
concealed among the provision wagons, or 



114 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



even rest unwatchfully 'abiding by the 
stuff.'" 

Scholars have found poverty tolerable 
compared with the privation of intellectual 
food. Riches weigh much more heavily 
upon the mind. " I cannot but say to pov- 
erty," said Richter, " Be welcome ! so that 
thou come not too late in life." 

Poverty Makes the World Rich. 

The Spaniards are even said to have 
meanly rejoiced in the poverty of Cervantes, 
but for which they supposed the production 
af his great works might have been pre- 
vented. When the Archbishop of Toledo 
visited the French ambassador at Madrid, 
the gentlemen in the suite of the latter 
expressed their high admiration of the writ- 
ings of the author of " Don Quixote," and 
intimated their desire of .becoming acquainted 
with one who had given them so much 
pleasure. The answer they received was, 
that Cervantes had borne arms in the service 
of his country, and was now old and poor. 
"What ! " exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, 
" is not Sefior Cervantes in good circum- 
stances ? Why is he not maintained, then, 
out of the public treasury?" "Heaven 
forbid!" was the reply, "that his necessities 
should be ever relieved, if it is those which 
make him write ; since it is his poverty that 
makes the world rich ! " 

It is not prosperity so much as adversity, 
not wealth so much as poverty, that stimu- 
lates the perseverance of strong and healthy 
natures, rouses their energy and develops 
their character. Burke said of himself: " I 
was not rocked and swaddled and dandled 
into a legislator. ' I strive against opposi- 
tion ' is the motto for a man like you." 
Some men only require a great difficulty set 
in their way to exhibit the force of their 
character and genius ; and that difficulty, 



once conquered, becomes one of the greatest 
incentives to their farther progress. 

It is a mistake to suppose that men suc- 
ceed through success; they much oftener 
succeed through failure. Soon after Dr. 
Stephen H. Tyng took charge of his first 
church in North Carolina he was to have a 
number of prominent men, lawyers, judges 
and others, in his congregation one Sabbath 
morning, and attempted, as usual, to deliver 
an unwritten sermon. The result was a flat 
failure. On the way home his wife said, 
"I trust you will now give up the idea 
of ever becoming an extempore preacher; 
better stick to your notes." The prompt, 
emphatic reply was, "I will become an 
extempore speaker." The early failures 
ended in brilliant successes, and afterward 
for many years, while settled in New York, 
Dr. Tyng was considered the most gifted 
and eloquent platform orator of his time. 
On every great occasion his presence was 
eagerly sought, and thousands hung upon 
his lips with delight. He was a man whom 
failures could not defeat. 

Success Through Failure. 

By far the best experience of men is made 
up of their remembered failures in dealing 
with others in the affairs of life. Such fail- 
ures, in sensible men, incite to better self- 
management, and greater tact and self-con- 
trol, as a means of avoiding them in the 
future. Ask the diplomatist, and he will tell 
you that he has learned his art through 
being baffled, defeated, thwarted and cir- 
cumvented, far more than from having suc- 
ceeded. Precept, study, advice and example 
could never have taught them so well as 
failure has done. It has disciplined them 
experimentally, and taught them what to do 
as well as what not to do — which is often 
still more important. 



i 




Grandmother's Thoughts. 



HAT happy thoughts are flitting 1 Ah ! 'tis just the same old story, 

(While Grandmamma sits knitting) She is giving Christ the glory 

Throughout the aged heart still true and strong ? | For the mercies which have blessed her life so 1< 
" For like stitches on my needles," says this happy Grandma Gray, 
" So He multiplies my blessings and increases them each day." 

115 



116 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



Many have to make up their minds to 
encounter failure again and again before they 
succeed; but if they have pluck, the failure 
will only serve to rouse their courage, and 
stimulate them to renewed efforts. Talma, 
the greatest of actors, was hissed off the 
stage when he first appeared on it. Lacor- 
daire, one of the greatest preachers of mod- 
ern times, only acquired celebrity after re- 
peated failures. Montalembert said of his 
first public appearance in the Church of St. 
Roch : " He failed completely, and, on com- 
ing out, every one said, ' Though he may be 
a man of talent, he will never be a preacher.' " 
Again and again he tried, until he succeeded; 
and only two years after his first appearance, 
Lacordaire was preaching in Notre Dame to 
audiences such as few French orators have 
addressed since the time of Bossuet and 
Massillon. 

Rising Above Failures. 

When Mr. Cobden first appeared as a 
speaker, at a public meeting in Manchester 
he completely broke down, and the chair- 
man apologized for his failure. Sir James 
Graham and Mr. Disraeli failed and were 
derided at first, and only succeeded by dint 
of great labor and application. At one time 
Sir James Graham had almost given up 
public speaking in despair. He said to his 
friend Sir Francis Baring: "I have tried it 
.every way — extempore, from notes, and 
committing all to memory — and I can't 
do it. I don't know why it is, but I am 
afraid I shall never succeed." Yet, by dint 
of perseverance, Graham, like Disraeli, lived 
to become one of the most effective and im- 
pressive parliamentary speakers. 

Failures in one direction have sometimes 
had the effect of forcing the far-seeing stu- 
dent to apply himself in another. When 
Boileau, educated for the bar, pleaded his 



first cause, he broke down amidst shouts ol 
laughter. He next tried the pulpit, and 
failed there too. And then he tried poetry, 
and succeeded. Fontenelle and Voltaire 
both failed at the bar. So Cowper, through 
his diffidence and shyness, broke down when 
pleading his first cause, though he lived to 
revive the poetic art in England. Montes- 
quieu and Bentham both failed as lawyers, 
and forsook the bar for more congenial pur- 
suits — the latter leaving behind him a treas- 
ury of legislative procedure for all time. 
Goldsmith failed in passing as a surgeon; 
but he wrote the "Deserted Village" and 
the "Vicar of Wakefield." 

The Blind Chaplain. 

Even the privation of some important 
bodily sense, such as sight or hearing, has 
not been sufficient to deter courageous men 
from zealously pursuing the struggle of life. 
Milton, when struck by blindness, "still bore 
up and steered right onward." His greatest 
works were produced during that period of 
his life in which he suffered most — when he 
was poor, sick, old, blind, slandered and 
persecuted. 

Rev. W. H. Milburn was blind from early 
childhood, yet this did not prevent him from 
becoming one of the most popular preachers 
in America. By his retentive memory he 
could repeat a considerable part of the Bible, 
and in the pulpit would repeat long chapters 
instead of reading them as preachers do who 
have eyesight. His remarkable gifts ele- 
vated him to the chaplaincy of the House of 
Representatives at Washington, and after- 
ward to that of the Senate. Obstacles that 
many persons would consider insurmountable 
only spur on a man of will and perseverance, 
and often such men achieve greater distinc- 
tion than they do wl'.o have everything in 
their favor. 



THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 



117 



The lives of some of the greatest men 
have been a continuous struggle with diffi- 
culty and apparent defeat. Dante produced 
his greatest work in penury and exile. Ban- 
ished from his native city by the local faction 
to which he was opposed, his house was 
given up to plunder, and he was sentenced, 
in his absence, to be burned alive. When 
informed by a friend that he might return to 
Florence, if he would consent to ask for 
pardon and absolution, he replied: "No! 
This is not the way that shall lead me back 
to my country. I will return with hasty 
steps if you, or any other,, can open to me a 
way that shall not derogate from the fame or 
the honor of Dante ; but if by no such way 
Florence can be entered, then to Florence I 
shall never return." His enemies remaining 
implacable, Dante, after a banishment of 
twenty years, died in exile. 

Disastrous Adventures. 

Camoens also wrote his great poems 
mostly in banishment. Tired of solitude at 
Santarem, he joined an expedition against 
the Moors, in which he distinguished himself 
by his bravery. He lost an eye when board- 
ing an enemy's ship in a sea-fight. At Goa, 
in the East Indies, he witnessed with indig- 
nation the cruelty practised by the Portu- 
guese on the natives, and expostulated with 
the governor against it. He was in conse- 
quence banished from the settlement, and 
sent to China. In the course of his subse- 
quent adventures and misfortunes, Camoens 
suffered shipwreck, escaping only with his 
life and the manuscript of his " Lusiad." 
Persecution and hardship seemed everywhere 
to pursue him. At Macao he was thrown 
into prison. Escaping from it, he set sail 
for Lisbon, where he arrived, after sixteen 
years' absence, poor and friendless. His 
" Lusiad," which was shortly after pub- 



lished, brought him much fame, but no 
money. 

But for his old Indian slave Antonio, who 
begged for his master in the streets, Camoens 
must have perished. As it was he died in a 
public alms-house, worn out by disease and 
hardship. An inscription was placed over 
his grave : " Here Hes Luis de Camoens : 
he excelled all the poets of his time : he 
lived poor and miserable ; and he died so." 
This record, disgraceful but truthful, has 
since been removed ; and a lying and pomp- 
ous epitaph, in honor of the great national 
poet of Portugal, has been substituted in its 
stead. 

Men of Spite and Meanness. 

Tasso, also, was the victim of almost con- 
tinual persecution and calumny. After lying 
in a mad-house for seven years, he became 
a wanderer over Italy ; and when on his 
death-bed, he wrote : " I will not complain 
of the malignity of fortune, because I do not 
choose to speak of the ingratitude of men 
who have succeeded in dragging me to the 
tomb of a mendicant." 

But time brings about strange revenges. 
The persecutors and the persecuted often 
change places ; it is the latter who are great — 
the former who are infamous. Even the 
names of the persecutors would probably 
long ago have been forgotten, but for their 
connection with the history of the men whom 
they have persecuted. Thus, who would 
now have known of Duke Alfonso of Ferrara, 
but for his imprisonment of Tasso ? Or, 
who would have heard of the existence of 
the Grand Duke of Wurtemburg of some 
hundred years back, but for his petty perse- 
cution of Schiller ? 

Science also has had its martyrs, who 
have fought their way to light through diffi- 
culty, persecution, and suffering. We need 



118 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



not refer again to the cases of Bruno, Galileo, 
and others, persecuted because of the sup- 
posed heterodoxy of their views. But there 
have been other unfortunates among men of 
science, whose genius has been unable to 
save them from the fury of their enemies. 

Priestley's House was Burned. 

Thus Bailly, the celebrated French astron- 
omer (who had been mayor of Paris), and 
Lavoisier, the great chemist, were both guil- 
lotined in the first French Revolution. When 
the latter, after being sentenced to death by 
the Commune, asked for a few days' respite, 
to enable him to ascertain the result of some 
experiments he had made during his confine- 
ment, the tribunal refused his appeal, and 
ordered him for immediate execution, one of 
the judges saying that " the Republic had 
no need of philosophers." In England also, 
about the same time, Dr. Priestle}^, the 
father of modern chemistry, had his house 
burned over his head, and his library de- 
stroyed, amidst shouts of "No philosophers ! " 
and he fled from his native country to lay 
his bones in a foreign land. 

The work of some of the greatest discov- 
erers has been done in the midst of persecu- 
tion, difficulty and suffering. Columbus, 
who discovered the New World and g.ive it 
as a heritage to the Old, was in his lifetime 
persecuted, maligned and plundered by those 
whom he had enriched. Mungo Park's 
drowning agony in the African river he had 
discovered, but which he was not to live to 
describe; Clapperton's perishing of fever on 
the banks of the great lake, in the heart of 
the same continent, which was afterwards to 
be rediscovered and described by other ex- 
plorers; Franklin's perishing in the snow — 
it might be after he had solved the long- 
sought problem of the Northwest Passage — 
are among the most melancholy events in 



the history of enterprise and genius. Suc^ 
cess and suffering often go together. 

Courageous men have often turned en- 
forced solitude to account in executing 
works of great pith and moment. It is in 
solitude that the passion for spiritual per- 
fection best nurses itself. The soul com- 
munes with itself in loneliness until its 
energy often becomes intense. But whether 
a man profits by solitude or not will mainly 
depend upon his own temperament, training 
and character. While, in a large-natured 
man, solitude will make the pure heart 
purer, in the small-natured man it will only 
serve to make the hard heart still harder; 
for though solitude may be the nurse of 
great spirits, it is the torment of small 
ones. 

John Bunyan in Jail. 

During his thirteen years imprisonment in 
the Tower, Raleigh wrote his " History of 
the World," a project of vast extent, of 
which he was only able to finish the first 
five books. Luther occupied his prison 
hours in the Castle of Wartburg in trans- 
lating the Bible, and in writing the famous 
tracts and treatises with which he inundated 
all Germany. 

It was to the circumstance of John 
Bunyan having been cast into jail that we 
probably owe the " Pilgrim's Progress." He 
was thus driven in upon himself; having no 
opportunity for action, his active mind found 
vent in earnest thinking and meditation; and 
indeed, after his liberation, his life as an 
author virtually ceased. His "Grace 
Abounding" and the "Holy War" were 
also Avritten in prison. Bunyan lay in 
Bedford Jail, with a few intervals of pre- 
carious liberty, during not less than twelve 
years; and it was most probably to his 
prolonged imprisonment that Ave owe what 



THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 



119 



Macaulay has characterized as the finest 
allegory in the world. 

A Quaker called on Bunyan one day with 
"a message from the Lord," saying he had 
been to half the jails of England, and was 
glad at last to have found him. To which 
Bunyan replied: "If the Lord sent thee, 
you would not have needed to take so much 
trouble to find me out, for He knew that I 
have been in Bedford Jail these seven 
years past." 

William Penn in Prison. 

Charles II imprisoned Baxter, Harrington 
(the author of "Oceana"), William Penn, 
and many more. All these men solaced 
their prison hours with writing. Baxter 
wrote some of the most remarkable pas- 
sages of his "Life and Times" while lying 
in the King's Bench Prison ; and Penn wrote 
his "No Cross, no Crown" while imprisoned 
in the Tower. In the reign of Queen Anne, 
Matthew Prior was in confinement, on a 
vamped-up charge of treason, for two years, 
during which he wrote his "Alma, or Pro- 
gress of the Soul." 

Since then, political prisoners of eminence 
in England have been comparatively few in 
number. Among the most illustrious were 
De Foe, who, besides standing three times in 
the pillory, spent much of his time in prison, 
writing "Robinson Crusoe" there, and many 
of his best political pamphlets. There, also, 
he wrote his "Hymn to the Pillory," and 
corrected for the press a collection of his 
voluminous writings. 

Louis Kossuth, the great Hungarian pa- 
triot^ orator and statesman, was imprisoned 
two years at Buda. He got hold of a copy 
of Shakespeare and occupied his time in 
learning the English language, so that dur- 
ing a subsequent visit to America, where he 
received immense ovations from our entire 



people, he surprised all who heard him by 
his wonderful command of our language and 
by his amazing eloquence. He stepped from 
prison to a position compared with which 
thrones were cheap. 

Men who, like these, suffer the penalty of 
law, and seem to fail, at least for a time, do 
not really fail. Many, who have seemed to 
fail utterly, have often exercised a more 
potent and enduring influence upon their 
race than those whose career has been a 
course of uninterrupted success. The char- 
acter of a man does not depend on whether 
his efforts are immediately followed by fail- 
ure or by success. The martyr is not a 
failure if the truth for which he suffered 
acquires a fresh lustre through his sacrifice. 

To Lose Life is to Save It. 

The patriot who lays down his life for his 
cause may thereby hasten its triumph ; and 
those who seem to throw their lives away in 
the van of a great movement often open a 
way for those who follow them, and pass 
over their dead bodies to victory. The 
triumph of a just cause may come late ; but 
when it does come, it is due as much to those 
who failed in their first efforts as to those 
who succeeded in their last. 

The example of a great death may be an 
inspiration to others, as well as the example 
of a good life. A great act does not perish 
with the life of him who performs it, but 
lives and grows up into like acts in those who 
survive the doer thereof and cherish his 
memory. Of some great men, it might 
almost be said that they have not begun to 
live until they have died. 

The names of the men who have suffered 
in the cause of religion, of science, and of 
truth, are the men, of all others, whose 
memories are held in the greatest esteem 
and reverence by mankind. They perished. 



k 



120 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



but their truth survived. They seemed to 
fail, and yet they eventually succeeded. 
Prisons may have held them, but their 
thoughts were not to be confined by prison- 
-walls. They have burst through, and defied 
the power of their persecutors. It was Love- 
Jace, a prisoner, who wrote : 

"Stone walls do not a prison make. 
Nor iron bars a cage ; 
jyiiuds innocent and quiet take 
That for a hermitage." 

It was a saying of Milton that, "who best 
can suffer best can do." The Work of many 
of the greatest men, inspired by duty, has 
been done amidst suffering and trial and 
difficulty. They have struggled against the 
tide, and reached the shore exhausted, only 
to grasp the sand and expire. They have 
done their duty, and been content to die. 
But death hath no power over such men ; 
their hallowed memories still survive, to 
soothe and purify and bless us. " Life," 
said Goethe, "to us all is suffering. Who 
save God alone shall call us to our reckoning? 
Let not reproaches fall on the departed. 
Not what they have failed in, nor what they 
have suffered, but what they have done, 
■ought to occupy the survivors." 

Adversity Shows What we are Made Of. 

Thus, it is not ease and facility that tries 
men and brings out the good that is in them, 
so much as trial and difficulty. Adversity is 
the touch-stone of character. As some herbs 
need to be crushed to give forth their 
sweetest odor, so some natures need to be 
tried by suffering to evoke the excellence 
that is in them. Hence trials often unmask 
virtues, and bring to light hidden graces. 
Men apparently useless and purposeless, 
•when placed in positions of difficulty and 
responsibility, have exhibited powers of 
character before unsuspected ; and where we 



before saw only pliancy and self-indulgence, 
we now see strength, valor, and self-denial. 

As there are no blessings which may not 
be perverted into evils, so there are no trials 
which may not be converted into blessings. 
All depends on the manner in which we 
profit by them or otherwise. Perfect happi- 
ness is not to be looked for in this world. 
If it could be secured, it would be found 
profitless. The hoUowest of all gospels is 
the gospel of ease and comfort. 

Difficulty, and even failure, are far better 
teachers. Sir Humphry Davy said : " Even 
in private life, too much prosperity either 
injures the moral man, and occasions conduct 
which ends in suffering, or it is accompanied 
by the workings of envy, calumny, and 
malevolence of others." 

A Poor Arabian Woman. 

Failure improves tempers and strengthens 
the nature. Even sorrow is in some mys- 
terious way linked with joy and associated 
with tenderness. John Bunyan once said, 
" if it were lawful, he could even pray for 
greater trouble, for the greater comfort's 
sake." When surprise was expressed at the 
patience of a poor Arabian woman under 
heavy affliction, she said, "When we look on 
God's face we do not feel His hand." 

Suffering is doubtless as divinely appointed 
as joy, while it is much more influential as a 
discipline of character. It chastens and 
sweetens the nature, teaches patience and 
resignation, and promotes the deepest as well 
as the most exalted thought. 

"What is it," says Mr. Helps, "that pro- 
motes the most and the deepest thought in 
the human race? It is not learning; it is 
not the conduct of business ; it is not even 
the impulse of the affections. It is suffering; 
and that, perhaps, is the reason why there is 
so much suffering in the world. The angel 




234 



"no night so dark, no day so drear, 
but we may sing our song of cheer.'' 



.22 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



who went down to trouble the waters and to 
make them healing, was not, perhaps, 
intrusted with so great a boon as the angel 
who benevolently inflicted upon the sufferers 
the disease from which they suffered." 

"The best of men 
That e'er wore earth about Him was a sufferer ; 
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit ; 
The first true gentleman that ever breathed." 

Suffering may be the appointed means by 
which the highest nature of man is to be 
disciplined and developed. Assuming hap- 
piness to be the end of being, sorrow may 
be the indispensable condition through which 
it is to be reached. Hence St. Paul's noble 
paradox descriptive of the Christian life — 
"As chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, 
yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making 
many rich ; as having nothing, and yet pos- 
sessing all things." 

Pain Loses its Sting. 
Even pain is not all painful. On one side 
it is related to suffering, and on the other to 
happiness. For pain is remedial as well as 
sorrowful. Suffering is a misfortune as 
viewed from the one side, and a discipline 
as viewed from, the other. But for suffering, 
the best part of many men's nature would 
sleep a deep sleep. Indeed, it might almost 
be said that pain and sorrow were the indis- 
pensable conditions of some men's success, 
and the necessary means to evoke the high- 
est development of their genius. Shelley 
has said of poets : 

" Most wretched men are cradled into poetry by 

wrong, 
They learn in suffering what they teach in song. ' ' 

Does any one suppose that Burns would 
have sung as he did had he been rich, 
respectable and "kept a gig;" or Byron, 



if he had been a prosperous, happily-mar- 
ried Postmaster-General? 

Sometimes a heart-break rouses an impas- 
sive nature to life. " What does he know," 
said a sage, "who has not suffered?" When 
Dumas asked Reboul, "What made you a 
poet?" his answer was, "Suffering!" It 
was the death, first, of his wife, and then 
of his child, that drove him into solitude for 
the indulgence of his grief, and eventually 
led him to seek and find relief in verse. It 
was also to a domestic affliction that we owe 
the beautiful writings of Mrs. Gaskell. "It 
was as a recreation, in the highest sense of 
the word," says a recent writer, speaking 
from personal knowledge, " as an escape 
from the great void of a life from which a 
cherished presence had been taken, that she 
began that series of exquisite creations which 
has served to multiply the number of our 
acquaintances and to enlarge even the circle 
of our friendships." 

How the Best "Work is Done. 

Much of the best and most useful work 
done by men and women has been done 
amidst affliction — sometimes as a relief from 
it, sometimes from a sense of duty over- 
powering personal sorrow. " If I had not 
been so great an invalid," said Dr. Darwin 
to a friend, " I should not have done nearly 
so much work as I have been able to accom- 
plish." So Dr. Donne, speaking of his 
illnesses, once said : " The advantage you 
and my other friends have by my frequent 
fevers is, that I am so much the oftener at 
the gates of Heaven ; and by the solitude 
and close imprisonment they reduce me to, 
I am so much the oftener at my prayers, in 
which you and my other dear friends are not 
forgotten." 

Schiller produced his greatest tragedies in 
the midst of physical suffering almost amount- 



THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 



123 



ing to torture. Handel was never greater 
than when, warned by palsy of the approach 
of death, and struggling with distress and 
suffering, he sat down to compose the great 
works which have made his name immortal 
in music. Mozart composed his great operas, 
and last of all his " Requiem," when oppressed 
by debt, and struggling with a fatal disease. 
Beethoven produced his greatest works 
amidst gloomy sorrow, when oppressed by 
almost total deafness. 

Heroism in Suffering. 
And poor Schubert, after his short but 
brilliant life, laid it down at the early age of 
thirty -two ; his sole property at his death 
consisting of his manuscripts, the clothes he 
wore, and twenty-two dollars in money. 
Some of Charles Lamb's finest writings were 
produced amidst deep sorrow; and Hood's 
apparent gayety often sprang from a suffer- 
ing heart. As he himself wrote, 

" There's not a string attuned to mirth, 
But has its chord in melancholy." 

Again, in science, we have the noble 
instance of the suffering Wollaston, even in 
the last stages of the mortal disease which 
afflicted him, devoting his numbered hours 
to putting on record, by dictation, the various 
discoveries and improvements he had made, 
so that any knowledge he had acquired cal- 
culated to benefit his fellow-creatures might 
not be lost. 

One of the finest examples of heroism and 
patience under suffering was afforded by 
General Grant during his protracted illness. 
Fatal disease had attacked him and death 
had clutched him by the throat, yet for 
weary months he labored incessantly to com- 
plete his Memoirs that he might have a 
legacy to leave to his family. Happily it 
proved to be a fortune, but the merit of the 



work, its historical value and addition to our 
war literature, are not so remarkable as the 
patient perseverance that produced it while 
the last darkness was shadowing the eyes of 
the great commander. The heroism he dis- 
played in his painful sickness dwarfed any he 
showed on the field of battle, and put the 
crown upon his remarkable career. 

Afflictions often prove but blessings in dis- 
guise. " Fear not the darkness," said the 
Persian sage; it "conceals perhaps the 
springs of the waters of life." Experience is 
often bitter, but wholesome ; only by its 
teaching can we learn to suffer and be strong. 
Character, in its highest forms, is disciplined 
by trial, and " made perfect through suffer- 
ing." Even from the deepest sorrow the 
patient and thoughtful mind will gather 
richer wisdom than pleasure ever yielded. 

"The soul's dark cottage, battered and decaj'ed, 
Lets in new light through chinks that time has 
made." 

We are Pupils in School. 

"Consider," said Jeremy Taylor, "that sad 
accidents and a state of afflictions is a school 
of virtue. It reduces our spirits to sober- 
ness, and our counsels to moderation; it 
corrects levity, and interrupts the confidence 
of sinning. God, who in mercy and wisdom 
governs the world, would never have suffered 
so many sadnesses, and have sent them, 
especially, to the most virtuous and the 
wisest men, but that He intends they should 
be the seminary of comfort, the nursery of 
virtue, the exercise of wisdom, the trial 
of patience, the venturing for a crown, and 
the gate of glory." 

And again: "No man is more miserable 
than he that hath no adversity. That man 
is not tried, whether he be good or bad; 
and God never crowns those virtues which 
are only faculties and dispositions; but every 



124 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



act of virtue is an ingredient unto reward." 
Prosperity and success of themselves do 
not confer happiness; indeed, it not unfre- 
■quently happens that the least successful in 
life have the greatest share of true joy in it. 
No man could have been more successful 
than Goethe — possessed of splendid health, 
honor, power and sufficiency of this world's 
■goods — and yet he confessed that he had 
not, in the course of his life, enjoyed five 
Aveeks of genuine pleasure. So the Caliph 
Abdalrahman, in surveying his successful 
reign of fifty years, found that he had 
enjoyed only fourteen days of pure and 
genuine happiness. After this, might it not 
be said that the pursuit of mere happiness 
is an illusion? 

"Whining is of no Use. 

Life, all sunshine without shade, all happi- 
ness without sorrow, all pleasure without 
pain, were not life at all — at least not human 
life. Take the lot of the happiest — it is a 
tangled yarn. It is made up of sorrows 
and joys; and the joys are all the sweeter 
because of the sorrows; bereavements and 
blessings, one following another, making us 
sad and blessed by turns. Even death itself 
makes life more loving; it binds us more 
■closely together while here. 

Dr. Thomas Browne has argued that 
•death is one of the necessary conditions 
-of human happiness, and he supports his 
.argument with great force and eloquence. 
But when death comes into a household, we 
■do not philosophize — we only feel. The 
eyes that are full of tears do not see; 
though in course of time they come to see 
more clearly and brightly than those that 
have never known sorrow. 

The wise person gradually learns not to 
expect too much from life. While he strives 
for success by worthy methods, he will be 



prepared for failures. He will keep his 
mind open to enjoyment, but submit pa- 
tiently to suffering. Wailings and com- 
plainings of life are never of any use; only 
cheerful and continuous working in right 
paths are of real avail. 

All in Need of Charity. 

Nor will the wise man expect too much 
from those about him. If he would live at 
peace with others, he will bear and forbear. 
And even the best have often foibles of 
character which have to be endured, sympa- 
thized with, and perhaps pitied. Who is 
perfect? Who does not suffer from some 
thorn in the flesh? Who does not stand 
in need of toleration, of forbearance, of for- 
giveness? What the poor imprisoned Queen 
Caroline Matilda, of Denmark, wrote on her 
chapel-window ought to be the prayer of all 
— "Oh! keep me innocent! make others 
great." 

Then, how much does the disposition of 
every human being depend upon their innate 
constitution and their early surroundings; 
the comfort or discomfort of the homes in 
which they have been brought up; their 
inherited characteristics and the examples, 
good or bad, to which they have been ex- 
posed through life ! Regard for such con- 
siderations should teach charity and forbear- 
ance to all men. 

At the same time, life will always be to a 
large extent what we ourselves make it. 
Each mind makes its own little world. The 
cheerful mind makes it pleasant, and the dis- 
contented mind makes it miserable. " My 
mind to me a kingdom is," applies alike to 
the peasant as to the monarch. The one 
may be in his heart a king, as the other 
may be a slave. Life is for the most part 
but the mirror of our own individual selves. 

Our mind gives to all situations, to all 



THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 



125 



fortunes, high or low, their real characters. 
To the good, the world is good; to the bad, 
it is bad. If our views of life be elevated — 
if we regard it as a sphere of useful effort, 
of high living and high thinking, of working 
for others' good as well as our own — it will 
be joyful, hopeful and blessed. If, on the 
contrary, we regard it merely as affording 
opportunities for self-seeking, pleasure and 
aggrandizement, it will be full of toil, anxiety 
and disappointment. 

There is much in life that, while in this 
state, we can never comprehend. There is, 
indeed, a great deal of mystery in life — much 
that we see "as in a glass darkly." But 
though we may not apprehend the full 
meaning of the discipline of trial through 
which the best have to pass, we must have 
faith in the completeness of the design of 
which our little individual lives form a 
part. 

We have each to do our duty in that 



sphere of life in which we have been placed. 
Duty alone is true; there is no true action 
but in its accomplishment. Duty is the end 
and aim of the highest life; the truest pleas- 
ure of all is that derived from the conscious- 
ness of its fulfillment. Of all others, it is- 
the one that is most thoroughly satisfying, 
and the least accompanied by regret and 
disappointment. In the words of George 
Herbert, the consciousness of duty per- 
formed "gives us music at midnight." 

And when we have done our work on 
earth — of necessity, of labor, of love, or of 
duty-^like the silk-worm that spins its little 
cocoon and dies, we too depart. But, short 
though our stay in life may be, it is the 
appointed sphere in which each has to work 
out the great aim and end of his being to' 
the best of his power; and when that is- 
done, the accidents of the flesh will affect 
but little the immortality we shall at last 
put on. 



THE BRIGHT DAY WILL DAWN. 



What though before me it is dark, 

Too dark for me to see ? 
I ask but light for one step more ; 

'Tis quite enough for me. 

Each little, humble step I take, 
The gloom clears from the next ; 

So, though 'tis very dark beyond, 
I never am perplexed. 

And if sometimes the mist hangs close. 

So close I fear to stray, 
Patient I wait a little while. 

And soon it clears away.. 

I would not see my further path, 

For mercy veils it so ; 
My present steps might harder be 

Did I the future know. 

It may be that my path is rough. 
Thorny, and hard, and steep ; 

And knowing this, my strength might fail 
Through fear and terror deep. 



It may be that it winds along 

A smooth and flowery way ; 
But seeing this I might despise 

The journey of to-day. 

Perhaps my path is very short, 

My journey nearly done, 
And I might tremble at the thought 

Of ending it so soon. 

Or, if I saw a weary length 

Of road that I must wend, 
Fainting, I'd think, "My feeble powers 

Will fail me ere the end." 

And so I do not wish to see 

My journey or its length ; 
Assured that, through my Father's love, 

Each step will bring its strength. 

Thus step by step I onward go, 

Kot looking far before ; 
Trusting that I shall always have 

Light for just ' ' one step more." 




THE PATH OF DUTY, 



126 



CHAPTER VII. 
THE PATH OF DUTY. 




O not turn away from this plain, 
old-fashioned word "duty." 
It is one of the grandest 
words in the English lan- 
guage. "England expects 
every man to do his duty," 
was what Lord Nelson sig- 
naled to all the battle-ships of his fleet at the 
beginning of the battle of Trafalgar. May 
war cease, but if there must be war, " duty " 
is the watchword that is rivalled only by 
courage. Nelson lost his life in that battle, 
but " duty " won the victory. 

Duty embraces our whole existence. It 
begins in the home, where there is the duty 
which children owe to their parents on the 
■one hand, and the duty which parents owe 
to their children on the other. There are, 
in like manner, the respective duties of hus- 
bands and wives, of masters and servants ; 
while outside the home there are the duties 
which men and women owe to each other as 
friends and neighbors, as employers and 
employed, as governors and governed. 

" Render, therefore," says St. Paul, " to 
.all their dues : tribute to whom tribute is 
due ; custom to whom custom ; fear to whom 
fear ; honor to whom honor. Owe no man 
anything, but to love one another ; for he 
that loveth another hath fulfilled the law." 

Thus duty rounds the whole of life, from 
our entrance into it until our exit from it — 
duty to superiors, duty to inferiors, and duty 
to equals — duty to man, and duty to God. 
Wherever there is power to use or to direct, 
"there is duty. For we are but as stewards. 



appointed to employ the means intrusted tc 
us for our own and for others' good. 

The abiding sense of duty is the very 
crown of character. It is the upholding law 
of man in his highest attitudes. Without it, 
the individual totters and falls before the first 
puff of adversity or temptation ; whereas, 
inspired by it, the weakest becomes strong 
and full of courage. "Duty," says Mrs. 
Jameson, " is the cement which binds the 
whole moral edifice together ; without which, 
all power, goodness, intellect, truth, happi- 
ness, love itself, can have no permanence; 
but all the fabric of existence crumbles away 
from under us, and leaves us at last sitting 
in the midst of a ruin, astonished at our own 
desolation." 

How Duty Shows Itself. 

Duty is based upon a sense of justice — 
justice inspired by love, which is the most 
perfect form of goodness. Duty is not a 
sentiment, but a principle pervading the life : 
and it exhibits itself in conduct and in acts, 
which are mainly determined by man's con- 
science and freewill. 

The voice of conscience speaks in duty 
done ; and without its regulating and con- 
trolling influence, the brightest and greatest 
intellect may be merely as a light that leads 
astray. Conscience sets a man upon his 
feet, while his will holds him upright. Con- 
science is the moral governor of the heart — - 
the governor of right action, of right thought, 
of right faith, of right life — and only through 
its dominating influence can the noble and 

127 



128 



THE PATH OF DUTY. 



upright character be fully developed and 
made to shine upon others. 

The conscience, however, may speak never 
so loudly, but without energetic will it may 
speak in vain. The will is free to choose 
between the right course and the wrong one, 
but the choice is nothing unless followed by 
immediate and decisive action. If the sense 
of duty be strong, and the course of action 
clear, the courageous will, upheld by the 
conscience, enables a man to proceed on his 
course bravely, and to accomplish his pur- 
poses in the face of all opposition and diffi- 
culty. And should failure be the issue, 
there will remain at least this satisfaction, 
that it has been in the cause of duty. 

Daily Duty. 

Each day its duty brings. The vindone task 

Of yesterday cannot be now fulfdled 

Without some current work's displacement. "Time 

And tide will wait for none." Then let us act 

So that they need not wait, and keep abreast 

With them by the discharge of each day's claim ; 

For each new dawn, like a prolific tree, 

Blossoms with blessings and with duties which 

So interwoven grow that he who shirks 

The latter, fails the first. You cannot pick 

The dainty and refuse the task. To win 

The smile of Him who did His Father's will 

In the great work assigned Him, while 'twas day. 

With love self-sacrificing, His high course 

We must with prayerful footsteps imitate ; 

And, knowing not what one day may bring forth, 

Live so that Death, come when he may, shall find 

Us not defaulters in arrears with Time, 

Mourning, like Titus, " I have lost a day ! " 

But busily engaged on something which 

Shall cast a blessing on the world, rebound 

With one to our own breasts, and tend to give 

To man some benefit, to God some praise. 

" Be and continue poor, young man," said 
Heinzelman;-;, "while others around you 
grow rich by fraud and disloyalty; be with- 
out place or power, while others beg their 
way upward ; bear the pain of disappointed 
hopes, while others gain the accomplish- 



ment of theirs by flattery ; forego the 
gracious pressure of the hand, for which, 
others cringe and crawl. Wrap yourself in 
your own virtue, and seek a friend and your 
daily bread. If you have in your own cause 
grown gray with unbleached honor, bless 
God and die ! " St. Paul, inspired by duty 
and faith, declared himself as not only 
" ready to be bound, but to die at Jerusalem."' 

"Remember Your Honor." 

When the Marquis of Pescara was 
entreated by the princes of Italy to desert the 
Spanish cause, to which he was in honor 
bound, his noble wife, Vittoria Colonna,. 
reminded him of his duty. She wrote to- 
him : " Remember your honor, which raises 
you above fortune and above kings ; by that 
alone, and not by the splendor of titles, is 
glory acquired — that glory which it will be 
your happiness and pride to transmit 
unspotted to your posterity." Such was the 
dignified view which she took of her hus- 
band's honor ; and when he fell at Pavia, 
though young and beautiful, and besought 
by many admirers, she betook herself to soli- 
tude, that she might lament over her 
husband's loss and celebrate his exploits. 

To live really is to act energetically. Life 
is a battle to be fought valiantly. Inspired 
by high and honorable resolve, a man must 
stand to his post, and die there, if need be. 
Like the old Danish hero, his determination 
should be, "to dare nobly, to will strongly, 
and never to falter in the path of duty." The 
power of will, be it great or small, which. 
God has given us, is a divine gift; and we 
ought neither to let it perish for want of 
using, on the one hand, nor profane it by 
employing it for ignoble purposes, on the 
other. Robertson, of Brighton, has truly 
said, that man's real greatness consists not in 
seeking his own pleasure, or fame, or 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



129 



advancement — " not that every one shall save 
his own life, not that every man shall seek 
his own glory — but that every man shall do 
his own duty." 

Duty in the Face of Danger. 

Old Ironsides at anchor lay- 
In the harbor of Mahon ; 

A dead calm rested on the bay, 
The waves to sleep had gone ; 

When little Hal, the Captain's son, 
A lad both brave and good, 

In sport, up shroud and rigging ran, 
And on the main truck stood ! 

A shudder shot through every vein. 

All eyes were turned on high ! 
There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, 

Between the sea and sky ; 
Nor hold had he above, below : 

Alone he stood in air ; 
To that far height none dared to go. 

No aid could reach him there. 

We gazed, but not a man could speak ; 

With horror all aghast. 
In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, 

We watched the quivering mast. 
The atmosphere grew thick and hot, 

And of a lurid hue. 
As riveted unto the spot. 

Stood officers and crew. 

The father came on deck ; he gasped, 

" O God ! Thy will be done ! " 
Then suddenly a rifle grasped. 

And aimed it at his son. 
"Jump, far out, boy, into the wave ! 

Jump, or I fire," he said ; 
'That only chance your life can save ; 

Jump, jump, my boy ! " He obeyed. 

He sank, — he rose, — he lived, — he moved, — 

And for the ship struck out. 
On board we hailed the lad beloved, 

With many a manly shout. 
His father drew, in silent joy, 

Those wet arms round his neck, 
And folded to his heart his boy. 

Then faulted on the deck. 

George; P. Morris. 

The sense of duty is a sustaining power even 
to a courageous man. It holds him upright, I 



and makes him strong. It was a noble 
saying of Pompey, when his friends tried to 
dissuade him from embarking for Rome in a 
storm, telling him that he did so at the great 
peril of his life: " It is necessary for me to 
go," he said ; " it is not necessary for me to 
live." What it was right that he should do, 
he would do, in the face of danger and in 
defiance of storms. 

Did Not Count the Cost. 

As might be expected of the great Wash- 
ington, the chief motive power in his life 
was the spirit of duty. It was the regal and 
commanding element in his character which 
gave it unity, compactness, and vigor. 
When he clearly saw his duty before him, 
he did it at all hazards, and with inflexible 
integrity. He did not do it for effect ; nor 
did he think of glory, or of fame and its 
rewards ; but of the right thing to be done, 
and the best way of doing it. 

Yet Washington had a most modest opin- 
ion of himself; and when offered the chief 
command of the American patriot army, he 
hesitated to accept it until it was pressed 
upon him. When ackno'.vledging in Con- 
gress the honor i^'hlcli had been done him in 
selecting hini to so important a trust, on the 
execution of which the future of his country 
in a great measure depended, Washington 
said : " I beg it may be remembered, lest 
some unlucky event should happen unfavor- 
able to my reputation, that I this day declare, 
with the utmost sincerity, I do not think 
myself equal to the command I am honored 
with." 

And in his letter to his wife, communicating 
to her his appointment as commander-in- 
chief, he said : " I have used every endeavor 
in my power to avoid it, not only from 
my unwillingness to part with you and the 
family, but from a consciousness of its being 



I 



130 



THE PATH OF DUTY. 



a trust too great for my capacity ; and that 
I should enjoy more real happiness in one 
month with you at home than I have the 
most distant prospect of finding abroad, if 
my stay were to be seven times seven years. 
But, as it has been a kind of destiny thathas 
thrown me upon this service, I shall hope 
that my undertaking it is designed for some 
good purpose. It was utterly out of my 
power to refuse the appointment, without 
exposing my character to such censures as 
would have reflected dishonor upon myself, 
and given pain to my friends. This, I am 
sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasing 
to you, and must have lessened me consider- 
ably in my own esteem." 

A Noble Resolve. 

Washington pursued his upright course 
through life, first as commander-in-chief, and 
afterwards as president, never faltering in the 
path of duty. He had no regard for popu- 
larity, but held to his purpose through good 
and through evil report, often at the risk of 
his power and influence. 

Thus, on one occasion, when the ratifica- 
tion of a treaty, arranged by Mr. Jay with 
Great Britain, was in question, Washington 
was urged to reject it. But his honor, and 
the honor of his country, was committed, 
and he refused to do so. A great outcry 
was raised against the treaty, and for a time 
Washington was so unpopular that he is said 
to have been actually stoned by the mob. 
But he, nevertheless, held it to be his duty 
to ratify the treaty ; and it was carried out 
in despite of petitions and remonstrances 
from all quarters. " While I feel," he said, 
in answer to the remonstrants, " the most 
lively gratitude for the many instances of 
approbation from my country, I can no 
otherwise deserve it than by obeying the 
dictates of my conscience." 



Wellington's watch-word, like Washing- 
ton's, was duty ; and no man could be more 
loyal to it than he was. Wellington, like 
Washington, had to pay the penalty of his 
adherence to the cause he thought right, in 
his loss of "popularity." He was mobbed 
in the streets of London, and had his win- 
dows smashed by the mob, while his wife lay 
dead in the house. " There is little or noth- 
ing," he once said, "in this life worth living 
for ; but we can all of us go straight forward 
and do our duty." 

Faithful Service. 

None recognized more cheerfully than he 
did the duty of obedience and willing service ;, 
for unless men can serve faithfully, they will 
not rule others wisely. There is no mottO' 
that becomes the wise man better than Ick 
dien, " I serve; " and "They also serve who 
only stand and wait." 

When the mortification of an officer,, 
because of his being appointed to a command 
inferior to what he considered to be his 
merits, was communicated to the duke, he- 
said : " In the course of my military career, 
I have gone from the command of a brigade 
to that of my regiment, and from the com- 
mand of an army to that of a brigade or a 
division, as I was ordered, and without any 
feeling of mortification." 

While commanding the allied army in 
Portugal, the conduct of the native popula- 
tion did not seem to Wellington to be either 
becoming or dutiful. " We have enthusiasm 
in plenty," he said, "and plenty of cries of 
' Viva / ' We have illuminations, patriotic 
songs, and fc/cs everywhere. But what we 
want is, that each in his own station should 
do his duty faithfully, and pay implicit obedi- 
ence to legal authority." 

This abiding ideal of duty seemed to be 
the governing principle of Wellington's char- 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



131 



acter. It was always uppermost in his mind, 
and directed all the public actions of his life. 
Nor did it fail to communicate itself to those 
under him, who served him in the like spirit. 
When he rode into one of his infantry squares 
at Waterloo, as its diminished numbers closed 
up to receive a charge of French cavalry, he 
said to the men, "Stand steady, lads; think 
of what they will say of us in England ; " to 
which the men replied, " Never fear, sir — we 
know our duty." 

Sensible Advice. 

Nelson's companion and friend — the brave, 
sensible, homely-minded Collingwood — he 
who, as his ship bore down into the great 
sea-fight, said to his flag-captain, "Just about 
this time our wives are going to church in 
England " — Collingwood too was, like his 
commander, an ardent devotee of duty. 
" Do your duty to the best of your ability," 
was the maxim which he urged upon many 
young men starting on the voyage of life. 
To a midshipman he once gave the following 
manly and sensible advice : 

" You may depend upon it, that it is more 
in your own power than in anybody else's to 
promote both your comfort and advance- 
ment. A strict and unwearied attention to 
your duty, and a complacent and respectful 
behavior, not only to your superiors but to 
everybody, will insure you their regard, and 
the reward will surely come ; but if it should 
not, I am convinced you have too much 
good sense to let disappointment sour you. 

" Guard carefully against letting discontent 
appear in you. It will be sorrow to your 
friends, a triumph to your competitors, and 
cannot be productive of any good. Conduct 
yourself so as to deserve the best that can 
come to you, and the consciousness of your 
own proper behavior will keep you in spirits 
if it should not come. Let it be your ambi- 



tion to be foremost in all duty. Do not be 
a nice observer of turns, but ever present 
yourself ready for everj^thing, and, unless 
your officers are very inattentive men, they 
will not allow others to impose more duty on 
you than they should." 

Man does not live for himself alone. He 
lives for the good of others as well as of 
himself. Every one has his duties to per- 
form — the richest as well as the poorest. 
To some life is pleasure, to others suffering. 
But the best do not live for self-enjoyment, 
or even for fame. Their strongest motive 
power is hopeful, useful work in every good 
cause. 

Hierocles says that each one of us is 
a centre, circumscribed by many concentric 
circles. From ourselves the first circle 
extends — comprising parents, wife, and child- 
ren. The next concentring circle comprises 
relations ; then fellow-citizens ; and lastly, 
the whole human race. 

The Sentinel Dead at His Post. 

The sphere of duty is infinite. It exists 
in every station of life. We have it not in 
our choice to be rich or poor, to be happy 
or unhappy; but it becomes us to do the 
duty that everywhere surrounds us. Obedi- 
ence to duty, at all costs and risks, is the 
very essence of the highest civilized life. 
Great deeds must be worked for, hoped for, 
died for, now as in the past. 

We often connect the idea of duty with 
the soldier's trust. We remember the pagan 
sentinel at Pompeii, found dead at his post, 
during the burial of the city by the ashes of 
Vesuvius, some eighteen hundred years ago. 
This was the true soldier. While others 
fled, he stood to his post. It was his duty. 
He had been set to guard the place, and he 
never flinched. He was suffocated by the 
sulphurous vapor of the falling ashes. His 



i 




132 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



132 



body was resolved to dust, but his memory 
survives. His helmet, lance and breastplate 
are still to be seen in a museum at Naples. 
This soldier was obedient and disciplined. 
He did what he was appointed to do. 
Obedience, to the parent, to the master, to 
the officer, is what every one who would do 
right should be taught to learn. Childhood 
should begin with obedience. Yet age does 
not absolve us. We must be obedient even 
to the end. Duty, in its purest form, is so 
constraining that one never thinks, in per- 
forming it, of one's self at all. It is there. 
It has to be done without any thought of 
self-sacrifice. 

Sinking of a Naval Ship. 

To come to a much later date than that 
of the Roman soldier at Pompeii. When the 
naval ship Birkenhead went down off the 
coast of Africa, with her brave soldiers on 
board firing guns in token of joy as they sank 
beneath the Avaves, the Duke of Wellington, 
after the new? arrived in England, was enter- 
tained at the B-anquet of the Royal Academy. 
Macaulay says : " I remarked (and Mr. Law- 
rence, the AmiTican Minister, remarked the 
same thing) th;it in his eulogy of the poor 
fellows who we*-e lost, the Duke never spoke 
of their couraj'^e, but always of their disci- 
pline and subordination. He repeated it 
several times o''er. The courage, I suppose, 
he treated a.« a matter of course." 

Duty is se.T-devoted. It is not merely 
fearlessness. The gladiator who fought the 
lion with the ^ourage of a lion was urged on 
by the ardo" of the spectators, and never 
forgot hims'^lf and his prizes. Pizarro was 
full of hardihood. But he -was actuated by 
his love of ^old in the midst of his terrible 
hardships. 

"Do yc-u wish to be great?" asks St. 
Avf7■""-^•-'^. "Then begin by being little. 



Do you desire to construct a vast and lofty 
fabric ? Think first about the foundations 
of humility. The higher your structure is 
to be, the deeper must be its foundation. 
Modest humility is beauty's crown." 

The best kind of duty is done in secret,, 
and without sight of men. There it does its 
work devotedly and nobly. It does not 
follow the routine of worldly wise morality. 
It does not advertise itself It adopts a 
larger creed and a loftier code, which to be 
subject to and to obey is to consider every 
human life, and every human action, in the 
light of an eternal obligation to the race. 
Our evil or our careless actions incur debts 
every day, that humanity, sooner or later, 
must discharge. 

Many duties are performed privately. 
Our public life may be well known, but in 
private there is that which no one sees — the 
inner life of the soul and spirit. We have it 
in our choice to be worthy or worthless. No' 
one can kill our soul, which can perish only 
by its own suicide. If we can only make 
ourselves and each other a little better, holier, 
and nobler, we have perhaps done the most 
that we could. 

Davenport, of Stamford. 

Here is the manner in which one of our 
American legislators stood to his post : 

An eclipse of the sun happened in New 
England about a century ago. The heavens 
became very dark, and it seemed to many 
that the day of judgment was at hand. The 
Legislature of Connecticut happened then to 
be in session, and on the darkness coming 
on, a member moved the adjournment of the 
House, on which an old Puritan legislator, 
Davenport, of Stamford, rose up and said 
that if the last day had come, he desired to 
be found in his place and doing his duty ; 
for which reasons he moved that candles 



134 



THE PATH OF DUTY. 



should be brought, so that the House might 
proceed with its business. Waiting at the 
post of duty was the maxim of the wise man, 
and he carried his motion. 

There was a man of dehcate constitution, 
who devoted a great deal of his time to 
philanthropic work. He visited the sick, he 
sat by them in their miserable homes, he 
nursed them and helped them in all ways. 
He was expostulated with by his friends for 
neglecting his business, and threatened with 
the illness he was sure to contract by visit- 
ing the fevered and the dying. He replied 
to his friends with firmness and simplicity, 
" I look after my business for the sake of 
my wife and my children, but I hold that a 
man's duty to society requires him to have a 
•care for those who are not of his own house- 
hold." 

These were the words of a willing servant 
to duty. It is not the man who gives his 
money that is the true benefactor of his kind, 
but the man who gives himself. The man 
who gives his money is advertised ; the man 
who gives his time, strength, and soul, is 
beloved. The one may be remembered, 
•while the other may be forgotten, though 
the good influence he has sown will never die. 

The Golden Rule. 
There is a sentence in the Evangelists 
•which comes back to us without ceasing, and 
which ought to be written on every page of 
a book of morality — " Do unto others as ye 
would that they should do unto you." " In 
life," says Wilhelm von Humboldt, "it is 
worthy of special remark, that when we are 
not too anxious about happiness and unhap- 
piness, but devote ourselves to the strict and 
unsparing performance of duty, then happi- 
ness comes of itself — nay, even springs from 
the midst of a life of troubles and anxie- 
ties and privations," 



" What is your duty ? " asks Goethe. 
" The carrying out of the affairs of the day 
that lies before you." But this is too narrow 
a view of duty. "What again," he asks, "is 
the best government ? That which teaches 
us to govern ourselves." Plutarch said to 
the Emperor Trajan, " let your government 
commence in your own breast, and lay the 
foundation of it in the command of your 
own passions." Here come in the words 
self-control, duty, and conscience. " There 
will come a time," said Bishop Hooker, 
when three words, uttered with charity and 
meekness, shall receive a far more blessed 
reward than three thousand volumes written 
with the disdainful sharpness of wit." 

Deeds of Love. 

It is well for the soul to look on actions 
done for love, not for selfish objects, but for 
duty, mercy, and loving-kindness. There 
are many things done for love which are a 
thousand times better than those done for 
money. The former inspire the spirit of 
heroism and self-devotion. The latter die 
with the giving. Duty that is bought is 
worth little. " I consider," said Dr. Arnold, 
"beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, 
is the attachment due to noble souls ; be- 
cause to become one with the good, gen- 
erous, and true, is to be in a manner good, 
generous, and true yourself." 

Every man has a service to do, to himself 
as an individual, and to those who are near 
him. In fact, life is of little value unless it 
be consecrated by duty. " Show those quali- 
ties, then," said Marcus Aurelis Antoninus, 
" which are altogether in thy power — 
sincerity, gravity, endurance of labor, aver- 
sion to pleasure, contentment with thy por- 
tion, and with few things, benevolence, frank- 
ness, and magnanimity." 

The greatest intellectual power may exist 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



135 



■without a particle of magnanimity. The 
latter comes from the highest power in man's 
mind — conscience, and from the highest 
faculty, reason, and capacity for faith — that 
by which man is capable of apprehending 
more than the senses supply. It is this 
which makes man a reasonable creature — 
more than a mere animal. Mr. Darwin has 
truly said, " that the motives of conscience, 
as connected with repentance and the feelings 
of duty, are the most important differences 
which separate man from the animal." 

Doctor Parr's Answer. 

We are invited to believe in the all power- 
ful potentcy of matter. We are to believe 
only in what we can see with our eyes 
and touch with our hands. We are to 
believe in nothing that we do not under- 
stand. But how very little do we abso- 
lutely know and understand ! We see 
only the surfaces of things, " as in a glass 
darkly." How can matter help us to under- 
stand the mysteries of life? We know 
absolutely nothing about the causes of voli- 
tion, sensation, and mental action. We 
know that they exist, but we cannot under- 
stand them. 

When a young man declared to Dr. Parr 
that he would believe nothing he did not 
understand, " Then, sir," said the doctor, 
" your creed would be the shortest of any 
man whom I ever knew." 

We must believe a thousand things that 
we do not understand. Matter and its com- 
binations are as great a mystery as life is. 
Look at those numberless far-off worlds 
majestically wheeling in their appointed 
orbits ; or at this earth on which we live, 
performing its diurnal motion on its own 
axis, during its annual circle round the sun. 
What do we understand about the causes of 
such motions ? What can we ever know 



about them beyond the fact that such things 
are? 

" The circuit of the sun in the heavens," 
says Pascal, "vast as it is, is itself only a 
delicate point when compared with the vaster 
circuit that is accomplished by the stars. 
Beyond the range of sight, this universe is 
but a spot in the ample bosom of nature. 
We can only imagine of atoms as compared 
with the reality, which is an infinite sphere, 
of which the centre is everywhere, the cir- 
cumference nowhere. What is man in the 
midst of this infinite? 

" But there is another prospect not less 
astounding ; it is the Infinite beneath him. 
Let him look to the smallest of the things 
which come under his notice — a mite. It 
has limbs, veins, blood circulating in them, 
globules in that blood, humors and serum. 
Within the inclosure of this atom I will show 
you not merely the visible universe, but the 
very immensity of nature. Whoever gives 
his mind to thoughts such as this will be 
terrified at himself — trembling where nature 
has placed him — suspended, as it were, 
between infinity and nothingness. The 
Author of these wonders comprehends them ; 
none but he can do so." 

Song of Nature. 

The harp at nature's advent strung 

Has never ceased to play ; 
The song the stars of morning sung 

Has never died away. 

And prayer is made, and praise is given, 

By all things near and far : 
The ocean looketh up to heaven, 

And mirrors every star. 

Its waves are kneeling on the strand, 

As kneels the human knee, 
Their white locks bowing to the sand, 

The priesthood of the sea ! 

They pour their glittering treasures forth, 
Their gifts ol pearl they bring, 



133 



THE PATH OF DUTY. 



And all the listening hills of earth 
Take up the song they sing. 

The green earth sends her incense up 

From many a mountain shrine ; 
From folded leaf and dewy cup 

She pours her sacred wine. 

The mists above the morning rills 

Rise white as wings of prayer ; 
The altar curtains of the hills 

Are sunset's purple air. 

The winds with hymns of praise are loud, 

Or low with sobs of pain, 
The thunder-organ of the cloud, 

The dropping tears of rain. 

With drooping head and branches crossed, 

The twilight forest grieves. 
Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost 

From all its sunlit leaves. 

The blue sky is the temple's arch, 

Its transept earth and air. 
The music of its starry march. 

The chorus of a prayer. 

So nature keep's the reverent frame 

With which her years began. 
And all her signs and voices shame 

The prayerless heart of man. 

J. G. Whittier. 

A Tongue in Every Leaf. 

There is a solemn hymn goes up 

From nature to the lyord above ; 
And offerings from her incense cup 

Are poured in gratitude and love ; 
And from each flower that lifts its eye 

In modest silence in the shade, 
To the strong woods that kiss the sky, 

A thankful song of praise is made. 

There is no solitude on earth, 

" In every leaf there is a tongue," 
In every glen the voice of mirth, 

From every hill a hymn is sung. 
And every wild and hidden dell, 

Where human footsteps never trod. 
Is wafting songs of joy which tell 

The praises of their Maker — God. 

Each mountain gives an altar birth. 
And has a shrine to worship given ; 



Each breeze that rises from the earth 
Is loaded with a song of heaven ; 

Each wave that leaps along the main 
Sends solemn music on the air ; 

And winds that swept o'er ocean's plain 
Bear off their voice of grateful prayer. 

All the laws of nature are dutiful ; they 
obey the command of their great Author. 
Here is the pattern for man. We cannot do 
just what we please to do unless we please 
to do the right. The highest aim of multi- 
tudes of persons is to have a " good time " 
regardless of consequences. The end is sel- 
fish and the life is mean and wicked. No 
man acting on this principle ever made the 
world any better. He has his " good time " 
for a little while, passes out of sight, and is 
remembered only as a failure, dead wood to 
which the world says " good riddance." 

"What the Chinese Sage Taught. 

Confucius taught his disciples to believe 
that conduct is three-fourths of life. " Ponder 
righteousness, and practice virtue. Knowl- 
edge, magnanimity, and energy, are univer- 
sally binding. Gravity, generosity of soul, 
sincerity, earnestness, and kindness, consti- 
tute perfect virtue." These words come to 
us as the far-off echo of the great teacher of 
ten thousand ages, as his disciples called him 
— the holy and prescient Chinese sage Con- 
fucius. 

But all these virtues come from the innate 
monitor conscience. From this first principle 
all rules of behavior are drawn. It bids us 
do what we call right, and forbids us doing 
what we call wrong. At its fullest growth, 
it bids us do what makes others happy, and 
forbids us doing what makes others unhappy. 
The great lesson to be learned is, that man 
must strengthen himself to perform his duty 
and do what is right, seeking his happiness 
and inward peace in objects that cannot be 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



137 



taken away from him. Conscience is the 
helper by which we get the mastery over 
our own failings. It is a silent working of 
the inner man, by which he proves his pe- 
culiar power of the will and spirit of God. 

We have also something to learn from the 
noble old Greeks as to the virtue of duty. 
Socrates is considered by some as the 
founder of Greek philosophy. It was his belief 
that he was specially charged by the Deity 
to awaken moral conscience in men. He 
was born at Athens 468 years before Christ. 
He received the best education which an 
Athenian could obtain. He first learned 
sculpture, in which he acquired some repu- 
tation. He then served his country as a 
soldier, according to the duty of all Athenian 
citizens. The oath which he took, in com- 
mon with all other youths, was as follows : 
"I will not disgrace the sacred arms intrusted 
to me by my country ; nor will I desert the 
place committed to me to defend." 

The Highest Prize of Valor. 

He displayed much fortitude and valor in 
all the expeditions in which he was engaged. 
In one of the engagements which took place 
before Potidasa, Alcibiades fell wounded in 
the midst of the enemy. Socrates rushed 
forward to rescue him, and carried him back, 
together with his arms. For this gallant 
performance he was awarded the civic crown 
as the highest prize of valor. His second 
campaign was no less honorable. At the 
disastrous battle of Delium he saved the life 
of Xenophon, whom he carried from the 
field on his shoulder, fighting his way as he 
went. He served in another campaign, after 
which he devoted himself for a time to the 
civil service of his country. 

He was as brave as a senator as he had 
been as a soldier. He possessed that high 
moral courage which can brave not only 



death but adverse opinion. He could defy 
a tyrant, as well as a tyrannical mob. When 
the admirals were tried after the battle of 
Arginusse, for not having rescued the bodies 
of the slain, Socrates stood alone in defend- 
ing them. The mob were furious. He was 
dismissed from the Council, and the admirals 
were condemned. 

Taught Obedience to Duty. 

Socrates then devoted himself to teaching. 
He stood in the market-places, entered the 
workshops, and visited the schools, in order 
to teach the people his ideas respecting the 
scope and value of 'human speculation and 
action. He appeared during a time of utter 
scepticism. He endeavored to withdraw 
men from their metaphysical speculation 
about nature, which had led them into the 
inextricable confusion of doubt. " Is life 
worth living?" was a matter of as much 
speculation in these days as it is in ours. 
Socrates bade them look inward. While 
men were propitiating the gods, he insisted 
upon moral conduct as alone guiding man 
to happiness here and hereafter. 

Socrates went about teaching. Wise men 
and pupils followed him. Aristippus offered 
him a large sum of money, but the offer was 
at once declined. Socrates did not teach 
for money, but to propagate wisdom. He 
declared that the highest reward he could 
enjoy was to see mankind benefiting by his 
labors. 

He did not expound from books ; he 
merely argued. " Books," he said, cannot 
be interrogated, cannot answer, therefore they 
cannot teach. We can only learn from them 
what we knew before." He endeavored to 
reduce things to their first elements, and to 
arrive at certainty as the only standard of 
truth. He believed in the unity of virtue, 
and averred that it was teachable as a matter 




THE BLIND MAN S DUTIFUL CHILD. 



138 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



139 



of science. He was of opinion that the only 
valuable philosophy is that which teaches us 
our moral duties and religious hopes. He 
hated injustice and folly of all kinds, and 
never lost an occasion of exposing them. 
He expressed his contempt for the capacity 
for goverment assumed by all men. He 
held that only the wise were fit to govern, 
and that they were the few. 

Condemned to Die. 

In his seventy -second year he was brought 
before the judges. The accusers stated their 
charge as follows : Socrates is an evil-doer, 
and corrupter of the youth ; he does not 
receive the gods whom the state receives, 
but introduces new divinities. He was tried 
on these grounds, and condemned to die. 
He was taken to his prison, and for thirty 
days he conversed with his friends on his 
favorite topics. Crito provided for him the 
means of escaping from prison, but he would 
not avail himself of the opportunity. He 
conversed about the immortality of the soul, 
about courage and virtue and temperance, 
about absolute beauty and absolute good, 
and about his wife and children. 

He consoled his weeping friends, and 
gently upraided them for their complaints 
about the injustice of his sentence. He was 
about to die. Why should they complain ? 
He was far advanced in years. Had they 
waited a short time, the thing would have 
happened in the course of nature. No man 
ever welcomed death as a new birth to a 
higher state of being with greater faith. The 
time at length came when the jailer pre- 
sented him with the cup of hemlock. He 
drank it with courage, and died in complete 
calmness. " Such was the end," said Phaedo, 
" of our friend, whom I may truly call the 
wisest and justest and best of all the men 
whom I have ever known." 



After ages have cherished the memory of 
his virtues and of his fate, but without profit- 
ing much by his example, and without learn- 
ing tolerance from his stoiy. His name has 
become a moral thesis for school-boys and 
rhetoricians. Would that it could become 
a moral influence 1 

The New Testament gives a glorified ideal 
of a possible human life; but hard are his 
labors who endeavors to keep that ideal 
uppermost in his mind. We feel that there 
is something else that we would like to do, 
much better than the thing that is incum- 
bent upon us. But duty is there, and it 
must be done, without dreaming or idling. 
How much of the philosophy of moral 
health and happiness is involved in the 
injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to 
do, do it with thy might." He that does 
his best, whatever his lot may be, is on the 
sure road to advancement. 

No Right to be Useless. 

It is related of one, who in the depths of 
his despair cried, " It is of no use to be good, 
for you cannot be good, and if you were, it 
would do you no good." It is hopeless, 
truthless and faithless, thus to speak of the 
goodness of word and work. Each one of 
us can do a little good in our own sphere of 
life. If we can do it, we are bound to do it. 
We have no more right to render ourselves 
useless than to destroy ourselves. 

We have to be faithful in small things as 
well as in great. We are required to make 
as good a use of our one talent as of the 
many talents that have been conferred upon 
others. We can follow the dictates of our con- 
science, and walk, though alone, in the paths 
of duty. We can be honest, truthful, dili- 
gent, were it only out of respect for one's 
self. We have to be faithful even to the end. 
Who is not struck with the answer of the 



b 



140 



THE PATH OF- DUTY. 



slave who, when asked by an intending pur- 
chaser, " Wilt thou be faithful if I buy 
thee?" "Yes," said the slave, "whether 
you buy me or not." 

Character is made up of small duties 
faithfully performed — of self-denials, of self- 
sacrifices, of kindly acts of love and duty. 
The backbone of character is laid at home ; 
and whether the constitutional tendencies be 
good or bad, home influences will as a rule 
fan them into activity. " He that is faithful 
in little is faithful in much ; and he that is 
unfaithful in little is unfaithful also in much." 

Kindness begets kindness, and truth and 
trust will bear a rich harvest of truth and 
trust. There are many little trivial acts of 
kindness which teach us more about a man's 
character than many vague phrases. These 
are easy to acquire, and their effects will 
last much longer than this very temporary 
life. 

Duty of Kindness. 

Be kind to each other ! 

The night's coming on, 
When friend and when brother 

Perchance may be gone ! 
Then 'midst our dejection 

How sweet to have earned 
The blest recollection 

Of kindness returned ! 
When day hath departed, 

And memory keeps 
Her watch, broken-hearted. 

Where all she loved sleeps ! 

het falsehood assail not, 

Nor envy disprove ; 
I/et trifles prevail not 

Against those ye love ! 
Nor change with to-morrow 

Should fortune take wing ; 
But the deeper the sorrow 

The closer still cling ! 
Oh, be kind to each other ! 

The night's coming on, 
When friend and when brother 

Perchance may be gone ! 

CharIvES Swain. 



No good thing is ever lost. Nothing dies, 
not even life, which gives up one form only 
to resume another. No good action, no 
good example, dies. It lives forever in our 
race. While the frame moulders and dis- 
appears, the deed leaves an indelible stamp, 
and moulds the very thought and will of 
future generations. Time is not the measure 
of a noble work ; the coming age will share 
our joy. A single virtuous action has 
elevated a whole village, a whole city, a 
whole nation. " The present moment," says 
Goethe, " is a powerful deity." Man's best 
products are his happy and sanctifying 
thoughts, which, when once formed and put 
in practice, extend their fertilizing influence 
for thousands of years, and from generation 
to generation. It is from small seeds dropped 
into the ground that the finest productions 
grow ; and it is from the inborn dictates of 
conscience and the inspired principle of duty 
that the finest growths of character have 
arisen. 

Struggling Upward. 

The sense of duty smooths our path 
through life. It helps us to know, to learn, 
and to obey. It gives us the power of over- 
coming difficulties, of resisting temptations, 
of doing that for which we strive ; of becom- 
ing honest, kind and true. All experience 
teaches us that we become that which we 
make ourselves. We strive against inclina- 
tions to do wrong, we strive for the inclina- 
tion to do right, and little by little we become 
that for which we strive. Every day's effort 
makes the struggle easier. We reap as we 
have sown. 

The true way to excel in any effort is to 
propose the brightest and most perfect 
example for imitation. We improve by the 
attempt, even though we fall short of the 
full perfection. Character will always ope^ 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



141 



rate. There may be little culture, slender 
abilities, no property, no position in "so- 
ciety;" yet, if there be a character of ster- 
ling excellence, it will command influence 
and secure respect. The edge of our facul- 



ties is seldom worn out by use, but it is very 
often rusted away by sloth. It is fervor and 
industry alone which give the beauty and the 
brightness to human life, and that life is noble 
which is actuated by a sense of duty. 



ODE TO DUTY. 



Stern Daughter of the Voice of God ! 

O Duty, if that name thou love, 
Who art a light to guide, a rod 

To check the erring, and reprove ; 
Thou, who art victory and law 
When empty terrors overawe. 
From vain temptations dost set free, 
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity I 

There are who ask not if thine eye 

Be on them ; who in love and truth. 
Where no misgiving is, rely 

Upon the genial sense of youth : 
Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot ; 
Who do thy work, and know it not : 
Oh ! if through confidence misplaced 
They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power ! around 
them cast. 

Serene will be our days and bright. 

And happy will our nature be. 
When love is an unerring light, 

And joy its own security. 
And they a blissful course may hold 
Even now, who, not unwisely bold, 
Live in the spirit of this creed ; 
Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. 

I, loving freedom, and untried. 

No sport of every random gust. 
Yet being to myself a guide. 

Too blindly have reposed my trust : 
And oft, when in my heart was heard 



Thy timely mandate, I deferred 

The task, in smoother walks to stray ; 

But thee I now would serve more strictly if I may. 

Though no disturbance of my soul. 

Or strong compunction in me wrought, 
I supplicate for thy control ; 

But in the quietness of thought ; 
Me this unchartered freedom tires ; 
I feel the weight of chance desires : 
My hopes no more must change their name, 
I long for a repose that ever is the same. 

Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear 
The Godhead's most benignant grace ; 

Nor know we anything so fair 
As is the smile upon thy face : 

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds. 

And fragrance in thy footing treads ; 

Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong. 

And the most ancient heavens through thee are 
fresh and strong. 

To humbler functions, awful Power ! 

I call thee : I myself commend 
Unto thy guidance from this hour ; 

O let my weakness have an end ! 
Give unto me, made lowly wise. 
The spirit of self-sacrifice ; 
The confidence of reason give ; 

And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live f 
WmiAM Wordsworth. 




BE SURE YOU ARE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. David Crockett. 



142 



CHAPTKR VIII. 



BE RIQHT, THEN (QO AHEAD. 




, YRUS Field said : " It has been 
a long and hard struggle to 
lay the Atlantic telegraph — 
nearly thirteen years of anxious 
watching and ceaseless toil. 
Often has my heart been ready 
to sink. I have sometimes almost accused 
myself of madness for sacrificing all my home 
comforts for what might, after all, prove a 
dream. I have seen my companions one 
after another fall by my side, and feared that 
I, too, might not live to see the end. I have 
often prayed that I might not taste of death 
till this work was accomplished. That 
prayer is now answered." 

A friend once said to President Lincoln : 
" Do you expect to end this war during your 
administration ? " Mr. Lincoln replied : " I 
do not know, sir." " But Mr. Lincoln, what 
do you mean to do?" "Peg away, sir ; 
peg away, keep pegging away!" Pegging 
away did it. 

" Be sure you're right, then go ahead," is 
U saying full of practical wisdom. If you 
ire wrong, better not go ahead ; if you are 
Hght, do not waste a moment in going 
ahead. Consider before you act, but having 
considered and made sure that you are on 
the right track, action is now a solemn duty. 
And what you know to be right is the only 
thing to be done. To do the wrong is to 
sow the wind ; if you sow the wind, you 
must reap the whirlwind. 

To do right has no risks about it ; you 
are on the safe side. There is no law in 
heaven or earth that sends a man to state- 



prison for doing right. The trouble is, many 
men who ought to be in state-prison are not 
there. This is their luck ; they have escaped, 
but it is still true that wrong-doing means 
dishonor, the criminal's cell and the hang- 
man's rope. 

Dare to do Right. 

Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! 
You have a work that no other can do ; 
Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well, 
Angels will hasten the story to tell. 

Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! 

Other men's failures can never save you. 

Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faitk^ 

Stand like a hero and battle till death. 

Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! 

Ivove may deny you its sunshine and dew. 

Ltt the dew fail, for then showers shall be given ; 

Dew is from earth, but the showers are from heaven. 

Dare Ic do right ! dare to be true ! 
God, who created you, cares for you too. 
Treasures the tears that his striving ones shed, 
Counts and protects every haii of your head. 

Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! 
Cannot Omnipotence carry you through ? 
City and mansion and throne all in sight. 
Can you not dare to be true and be right? 

Dare fo do right ! ctare to fee trtie f 
Keep the great judgment-seat always in view ; 
Look at your work as you'll look at it then, 
Scanned by Jehovah and angels and men. 

Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! 
Prayerfully, lovingly, firmly pursue 
The path by apostles and martyrs once trod, 
The path of the just to the city of God. 

George Lansing Tayi,or. 
143 



144 



THE INFLUJiNCE OF HOME. 



I once heard a poor man say to a rich 
man, " I would not condescend to tell you a 
lie for all you are worth." The other 
replied, "No one expects you to tell a lie, 
and if money would buy falsehood, every 
cent I am worth might perish before I 
would give it for that purpose." In this 
conversation, heard incidentally, we get a 
glimpse of the true standard of living. 

Afraid of Lions. 

He who has well considered his duty will 
at once carry his convictions into action. 
Our acts are the only things that are in our 
power. They not only form the sum of our 
habits, but of our character. We can do 
right ; we are not only to think right and 
talk right ; this is not enough. Says Charles 
Kingsley : 

Do noble things, not dieam them, all day long. 
And so make life, death, and that vast forever, one 
grand, sweet song. 

At the same time, the course of duty is 
not always the easy course. It has many 
oppositions and difficulties to surmount. We 
may have the sagacity to see, but not the 
strength of purpose to do. To the irresolute 
there is many a lion in the way. He thinks 
and moralizes and dreams, but does nothing. 
"There is little to see," said a hard worker, 
" and little to do ; it is only to do it." 

The man whose first question, after a right 
course of action has presented itself, is 
"What will people say? " is not the man to 
do anything at all. But if he asks, " Is it 
my duty? " he can then proceed in his noble 
achievements, and be ready to incur men's 
censure, and even to brave their ridicule. 
"Let us have faith in fine actions," says a 
good writer, " and let us reserve doubt and 
incredulity for bad. It is even better to be 
deceived than to distrust." 



Duty is first learned at home. The child 
comes into the world helpless and dependent 
on others for its health, nurtuie, and moral 
and physical development. The child at 
length imbibes ideas ; under proper influences 
he learns to obey, to control himself, to be 
kind to others, to be dutiful and happy. He 
has a will of his own ; but whether it will be 
well or ill directed depends very much upon 
parental influences. 

You should have a strong will, and never 
so strong as in doing the right. When the 
true man, bent on good, holds by his pur- 
pose, he places but small value on the 
rewards or praises of the world ; his own 
approving conscience, and the "well done" 
which awaits him is his best reward. 

Alexander and Napoleon. 

Unless the direction of the character be 
right, the strong will may be merely a power 
for mischief In great tyrants it is a demon ; 
Avith power to wield, it knows no bounds nor 
restraint. It holds millions subject to it; 
inflames their passions, excites them to 
military fury, and is never satisfied but in 
conquering, destroying, and tyrannizing. The 
strong will produces an Alexander or a 
Napoleon. Alexander cried because there 
were no more kingdoms to conquer ; and 
Bonaparte, after overrunning Europe, spent 
his force amid the snovvs of Russia. " Con- 
quest has made me," he said, "and conquest 
must maintain ine." But he was a man of 
no moral principle, and Europe cast him 
aside when his work of destruction was 
done. 

The strong will, allied to right motives, is 
as full of blessings as the other is of mis- 
chief The man thus influenced moves and 
inflames the minds and consciences of 
others. He bends them to his' views of 
duty, carries them with him in his endeavors 



BE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. 



145 



to secure worthy objects, and directs opinion 
to the suppression of wrong and the estab- 
lishment of right. The man of strong will 
stamps power upon his actions. His ener- 
getic perseverance becomes habitual. He 
gives a tone to the company in which he is, 
to the society in which he lives, and even to 
the nation in which he is born. He is a joy 
to the timid, and a perpetual reproach to the 
sluggard. He sets the former on their feet 
by giving them hope. He may even inspire 
the latter to good deeds by the influence of 
his example. 

Blown About by Every Wind. 

Besides the men of strong bad wills and 
strong good wills, there is a far larger num- 
ber who have very weak wills, or no wills at 
all. They are characterless. They have no 
strong will for vice, yet they have none for 
virtue. They are the passive recipients of 
impressions, which, however, take no hold 
of them. They seem neither to go forward 
nor backward. As the wind blows, so their 
vane turns round ; and when the wind 
blows from another quarter, it turns round 
again. Any instrument can write on such 
spirits ; any will can govern theirs. They 
cherish- no truth strongly, and do not know 
what earnestness is. Such persons consti- 
tute the mass of society everywhere — the 
careless, the passive, the submissive, the 
feeble, and the indifferent. 

It is, therefore, of the utmost importance 
that attention should be directed to the im- 
provement and stengthening of the will ; for 
without this there can neither be independ- 
ence, nor firmness, nor individuality of char- 
acter. Without it we cannot give truth its 
proper force, nor morals their proper direc- 
tion, nor save ourselves from being machines 
in the hands of worthless and designing men. 
Intellectual cultivation will not give decision 



of character. Philosophers discuss; deci- 
sive men act. " Not to resolve," says Bacon, 
" is to resolve " — that is, to do nothing. 

On the summit of a hill in a Western 
State is a court house, so situated that the 
rain-drops which fall on one side of the 
roof descend into Lake Erie and thence 
through the St. Lawrence into the Atlantic. 
The rain-drops which fall on the other side, 
trickle down from rivulet to rivulet until they 
reach the Ohio and Mississippi, and finally 
enter the ocean by the Gulf of Mexico. A 
faint breath of wind determines the destina- 
tion of these rain-drops for three thousand 
miles. A single act determines, sometimes, 
a human destiny for all time and for eternity. 

When Kossuth was an exile in Turkey, 
the government was strongly pressed by Rus- 
sia and Austria to give him up. The expe- 
dient was resorted to of making his protec- 
tion contingent on his embracing Moham- 
medanism. Hear his reply: "My answer 
admits of no hesitation. Between death and 
shame, the choice can neither be dubious 
nor difficult. I know what I owe to my 
country; I know my duty as a private 
individual. I am prepared to die." 

Patrick Henry's Courage. 
When Patrick Henry, who gave the first 
impulse to the ball of the American Revolu- 
tion, introduced his celebrated resolution on 
the Stamp Act into the House of Burgesses 
of Virginia (May, 1765), he exclaimed, when 
descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious 
act: "Caesar had his Brutus; Charles the 
First his Cromwell; and George the Third" 
— "Treason!" cried the speaker. "Trea- 
son! treason!" echoed from every part of 
the house. It was one of those trying mo- 
ments which are decisive of character. 
Henry faltered not for an instant ; but rising 
to a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker 



146 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



an eye flashing with fire, continued — "may 
profit by their example. If this be treason, 
make the most of it." 

These examples of decision of character, 
being sure of the right and then going 
ahead, will never cease to be read, for they 
point to the highest type of man. Men 
cannot be raised in masses, as the mountains 
were in the early geological states of the world . 
They must be dealt with as units ; for it is 
only by the elevation of individuals that the 
elevation of the masses can be effectually 
secured. Teachers and preachers may influ- 
ence them from without, but the main action 
comes from within. Individual men must 
exert themselves and help themselves, other- 
wise they never can be effectually helped by 
others. 

Home is the Cradle of Virtue. 

Mere cultivation of the intellect has hardly 
any influence upon conduct. Creeds posted 
upon the memory will not eradicate vicious 
propensities. The intellect is merely an in- 
strument, which is moved and worked by 
forces behind it — by emotions, by self- 
restraint, by self-control, by imagination, by 
enthusiasm, by everything that gives force 
and energy to character. 

The most of these principles are implanted 
at home, and not at school. Where the 
home is miserable, worthless, and unprin- 
cipled — a place rather to be avoided than 
entered — then school is the only place for 
learning obedience and discipline. At the 
same time, home is the true soil where virtue 
grows. The events of the household are 
more near and affecting to us than those of 
the school and the academy. It is in the 
study of the home that the true character 
and hopes of the times are to be consulted. 

To train up their households is the busi- 
ness of the old ; to obey their parents and 



to grow in wisdom is the business of the 
young. Education is a work of authority 
and respect. Christianity, according to 
Guizot, is the greatest school of respect that 
the world has ever seen. Religious instruc- 
tion alone imparts the spirit of self-sacrifice, 
great virtues, and lofty thoughts. It pene- 
trates to the conscience, and makes life 
bearable without a murmur against the mys- 
tery of human conditions. 

The Object of Training. 

"The great end of training," says a great 
writer, "is liberty ; and the sooner you can 
get a child to be a law unto himself, the 
sooner you will make a man of him. I will 
respect human liberty in the smallest child 
even more scrupulously than in a grown 
man ; for the latter can defend it against me, 
while the child cannot. Never will I insult 
the child so far as to regard him as material 
to be cast into a mould, to emerge with the 
stamp given by my will." 

Paternal authority and family independence 
is a sacred domain ; and, if momentarily ob- 
scured in troublous times. Christian sentiment 
protests and resists until it regains its 
authority. But liberty is not all that should 
be struggled for ; obedience, self-restraint, 
and self-government, are the conditions to be 
chiefly aimed at. The latter is the principal 
end of education. It is not imparted by 
teaching, but by example. The first instruc- 
tion for youth, says Bonald, consists in 
habits, not in reasonings, in examples rather 
than in direct lessons. Example preaches 
better than precept, and that too because it is 
so much more difficult. At the same time, 
the best influences grow slowly, and in a 
gradual correspondence with human needs. 

To act rightly, then, is the safety-valve of 
our moral nature. Good-will is not enough; 
it does not always produce good deeds. 



BE RIGHT. THEN GO AHEAD. 



147 



Persevering action does most. What is done 
with diligence and toil imparts to the spec- 
tator a silent force, of which we cannot say 
how far it may reach. 

Noble work is the true educator. Idle- 
ness is a thorough demoralizer of body, soul, 
and conscience. Nine-tenths of the vices 
and miseries of the world proceed from idle- 
ness. Without work there can be no active 
progress in human welfare. 

Base Idleness. 

I waste no more in idle dreams 

My life, my soul away ; 
I wake to know my better self — 

I wake to watch and pray. 
Thought, feeling, time, on idols vain, 

I've lavished all too long : 
Henceforth to holier purposes 

I pledge myself, my song ! 

I shut mine eyes in grief and shame 

Upon the dreary past — 
My heart, my soul poured recklessly 

On dreams that could not last : 
My bark was drifted down the stream, 

At will of wind or wave — 
An idle, light and fragile thing. 

That few had cared to save. 

Henceforth the tiller Truth shall hold, 

And steer as conscience tells. 
And I will brave the storms of fate, 

Though vnld the ocean swells. 
I know my soul is strong and high, 

If once I give it sway : 
I feel a glorious power within. 

Though light I seem and gay. 

Oh, laggard soul ! unclose thine eyes — 

No more in luxury soft 
Of joy ideal waste thyself: 

Awake and soar aloft ! 
Unfurl this hour those falcon wings 

Which thou dost fold too long ; 
Raise to the skies thy lightning gaze. 

And sing thy loftiest song ! 

Frances Sargent Osgood. 

O Have we difficulties to contend with ? Then 
work through them. No exorcism charms 
like labor. Idleness of mind and body re- 



sembles rust. It wears more than work. "I 
would rather work out than rust out," said 
a noble worker. Schiller said that he found 
the greatest happiness in life to consist in the 
performance of some mechanical duty. He 
was also of opinion that " the sense of beauty 
never furthered the performance of a single 
duty." The highest order of being is that 
which loses sight in resolution, and feeling 
in work. 

The greatest of difficulties often lie where 
we are not looking for them. When painful 
events occur, they are, perhaps, sent only to 
try and prove us. If we stand firm in our 
hour of trial, the firmness gives serenity to 
the mind, which always feels satisfaction in 
acting conformably to duty. "The battles 
of the wilderneos," said Norman Macleod, 
" are the sore battles of everyday life. Their 
giants are our giants, their sorrows our sor- 
rows, their defeats and victories ours also. 
As they had honors, defeats and victories, 
so have we." 

How to Meet Difficulties. 

The school of difficulty is the best school 
of moral discipline. When difficulties have 
to be encountered, they must be met with 
courage and cheerfulness. Did not Aristotle 
say that happiness is not so much in our 
objects as in our energies? Grappling with 
difficulties is the surest way of overcoming 
them. The determination to realize an object 
is the moral conviction that we can and will 
accomplish it. Our wits are sharpened by 
our necessity, and the individual man stands 
forth to meet and overcome the difficulties 
which stand in his way. 

Robert Bruce had been defeated twelve 
times by Edward. His troops were scattered 
and he had taken shelter in a barn. While in 
the barn he saw a spider trying to climb a 
beam of the roof. It fell down twelve times. 



148 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



The thirteenth time it climbed to the top. 
Bruce said to himself, " Why should I not 
persevere also? " He rallied his troops, 
defeated Edward, and was crowned king. 

Mr. Disraeli failed in his first speech in the 
House of Commons. As he took his seat 
he uttered the prediction, " The day will 
come when you will be glad to hear me." 
Robert Hall, the great non-conformist 
preacher, broke down in his first sermon. 
George Stephenson was laughed at when he 
first talked of a locomotive and a railway. 
Mr. Thackeray had great difficulty in finding 
a publisher willing to publish " Vanity Fair." 
Bishop Simpson failed in his first sermon. 
His earliest pulpit efforts were so poor that 
liis friends advised him not to enter the 
ministry. History is full of such examples. 
Don't be discouraged. "If at first you 
don't succeed, try again." 

A Sign of ^A/eakness. 

The memoirs of men who have thrown 
their opportunities away would constitute a 
painful but a memorable volume for the 
world's instruction. " No strong man, in 
good health," says Ebenezer Elliot, " can be 
neglected, if he be true to himself For the 
benefit of the young, I wish we had a correct 
account of the number of persons who fail 
of success, in a thousand who resolutely 
strive to do well. I do not think it exceeds 
•one per cent." Men grudge success, but it 
is only the last term of what looked like a 
series of failures. They failed at first, then 
again and again, but at last their difficulties 
vanished, and success was achieved. 

The desire to possess, without being bur- 
dened with the trouble of acquiring, is a 
great sign of weakness and laziness. Every- 
thing that is worth enjoying or possessing 
can only be got by the pleasure of working. 
This is the great secret of practical strength. 



One may very distinctly prefer industry to 
indolence, the healthful exercise of all one's 
faculties to allowing them to rest unused in 
drowsy torpor. In the long run we shall 
proably find that the exercise of the faculties 
has of itself been the source of a more genu- 
ine happiness than has followed the actual 
attainment of what the exercise was directed 
to procure. 

Seizing Opportunities. 

It has been said of a great judge that he 
never threw a legitimate opportunity away, 
but that he never condescended to avail 
himself of one that was unlawful. What he 
had to do, at any period of his career, was 
done with his whole heart and soul. If 
failure should result from his labors, self- 
reproach could not affect him, for he had 
tried to do his best. 

We must work, trusting that some of the 
good seed we throw into the ground will 
take root and spring up into deeds of well- 
doing. What man begins for himself God 
finishes for others. Indeed, we can finish 
nothing. Others begin where we leave off, 
and carry on our work to a stage nearer 
perfection. We have to bequeath to those 
who come after us a noble design, worthy of 
imitation. Well done, well doing, and well 
to do, are inseparable conditions that reach 
through all the ages of eternity. 

Very f^jw people can realize the idea that 
they are of no use in the world. The fact of 
their existence implies the necessity for their 
existence. The world is before them. They 
have their choice of good and evil — of use- 
fulness and idleness. What have they clone 
with their time and means ? Have they 
shown the world that their existence has 
been of any use whatever ? Have they made 
any one the better because of their life? 
Has their career been a mere matter of idle- 




14? 



150 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



ness and selfishness, of laziness and indiffer- 
ence ? Have they been seeking pleasure ? 
Pleasure flies before idleness. Happiness is 
out of the reach of laziness. Pleasure and 
happiness are the fruits of work and labor, 
never of carelessness and indifference. 

A resolute will is needed not only for the 
performance of difficult duties, but in order 
to go promptly, energetically, and with self- 
possession, through the thousand difficult 
things which come in almost everybody's 
way. Thus courage is as necessary as 
integrity in the performance of duty. The 
force may seem small which is needed to 
carry one cheerfully through any of these 
things singly, but to encounter one by one 
the crowding aggregate, and never to be 
taken by surprise, or thrown out of temper, 
is one of the last attainments of the human 
spirit. 

Up e-.d At It. 

Every generation has to bear its own 
burden, to weather its peculiar perils, to pass 
through its manifold trials. We are daily 
exposed to temptations, whether it be of 
idleness, self-indulgence, or vice. The feel- 
ing of duty and the power of courage must 
resist these things at whatever sacrifice of 
worldly interest. When virtue has thus be- 
come a daily habit, we become possessed of 
an individual character, prepared for fulfilling, 
in a great measure, the ends for which we 
were created. 

How much is lost to the world for want of 
a little courage ! We have the willingness 
to do, but we fail to do it. The state of the 
world is such, and so much depends on 
action that everything seems to say loudly 
to every man, "Do something; do it, do it." 
The poor country parson, fighting against 
evil in his parish, against wrong-doing, 
injustice, and iniquity, has nobler ideas of 



duty than Alexander the Great ever had. 
Some men are mere apologies for workers, 
even when they pretend to be up and at it. 
They stand shivering on the brink, and have 
not the courage to plunge in. Every day 
sends to the grave a number of obscure men, 
who, if they had had the courage to begin, 
would, in all probability, have gone great 
lengths in the career of well-doing. 

No Place for Cowards. 

Professor Wilson, of Edinburgh, in teach- 
ing his students, almost put foremost the 
sense of duty; moreover, of duty in action. 
His lectures deeply influenced the characters 
of those who listened to him. He sent them 
forth to fight the battle of life valiantly ; like 
the old Danish hero — "to dare nobly, to will 
strongly, and never to falter in the path of 
duty." Such was his creed. 

There is a great deal of trimming in the 
world, for the most part arising from the 
want of courage. When Luther said to 
Erasmus, "You desire to walk upon eggs 
without crushing them, and among glasses 
without breaking them," the timorous, hesi- 
tating Erasmus replied, "I will not be 
unfaithful to the cause of Christ, at least 
so far as the age will permit mey Luther 
was of a very different character. " I will 
go to Worms though devils were combined 
against me as thick as the tiles upon the 
housetops." Or like St. Paul, "I am ready, 
not only to be bound, but to die at Jeru- 
salem." 

A very successful man once said, "One 
trait of my character is thorough seriousness. 
I am indifferent about nothing that I under- 
take. In fact, if I undertake to do a thing, 
I cannot be indifferent." This makes all 
the difference between a strong man and a 
weak man. The brave men are often killed, 
the talkers are left behind, the cowards run 



BE RIGHT. THEiN GO AHEAD. 



151 



away. Deeds show what we are, words 
only what we should be. Every moment 
of a working life may be a decisive victory. 
The joy of creation more than returns all 
the pains of labor; and, as the conscious 
labor against external obstacles is the first 
joy of awakening life, so the completed work 
is the most intense of pleasures, bringing to 
full birth in us the sense of personality, and 
consecrating our triumph, if only partial and 
momentary, over nature. Such is the true 
character of effort or will in action. 

Actions Conquer. 

A man is a miracle of genius because he 
has been a miracle of labor. Strength can 
conquer circumstances. The principle of 
action is too powerful for any circumstances 
to resist. It clears the way, and elevates 
itself above every object, above fortune and 
misfortune, good and evil. The joys that 
come to us in this world are but to 
strengthen us for some greater labor that 
is to succeed. Man's wisdom appears in 
his actions; for every man is the son of his 
own work. Richter says that "good deeds 
ring clear through heaven like a bell." 

Active and sympathetic contact with man 
in the transactions of daily life is a better 
preparation for healthy, robust action than 
any amount of meditation and seclusion. 
What Swedenborg said about vowing poverty 
and retiring from the world in order to live 
more to heaven seems reasonable and true. 
"The life that leads to heaven," he said, "is 
not a life of retirement from the world, but 
of action in the world. A life of charity, 
which consists in acting sincerely and justly 
in every enjoyment and work, in obedience 
to the divine law, is not difficult; but a life 
of piety alone is difficult, and it leads away 
from heaven as much as it is commonly 
believed to lead to it." 



With many people religion is merely a 
matter of words. So far as words go, we 
do what we think right. But the words 
rarely lead to action, thought and conduct, 
or to purity, goodness and honesty. There 
is too much playing at religion, and too little 
of enthusiastic hard work. There is a great 
deal of reading about rehgion; but true 
religion, embodied in human character and 
action, is more instructive than a thousand 
doctrinal volumes. If a man possesses not 
a living and strong will that leads the way 
to good, he will either become a plaything 
of sensual desires, or pass a life of sham.eless 
indolence. 

One of the greatest dangers that at pres- 
ent beset the youth of our country is laziness. 
What is called "culture" amounts to little. 
It may be associated with the meanest moral 
character, abject servility to those in high 
places, and arrogance to the poor and lowly. 
The fast, idle youth believes nothing, vene- 
rates nothing, hopes nothing; no, not even 
the final triumph of good in human hearts. 

Not All the Same. 

There are many Mr. Tootses in the world, 
saying, "It's all the same," "It's of no con- 
sequence." It is not all the same, nor will 
it be all the same a hundred years hence. 
The life of each man tells upon the whole 
life of society. Each man has his special 
duty to perform, his special work to do. If 
he does it not, he himself suffers, and others 
suffer through him. His idleness infects 
others, and propagates a bad example. A 
useless life is only an early death. 

There is far too much croaking among 
young men. Instead of setting to work 
upon the thing they dream of, they utter 
querulous complaints which lead to no 
action. Is life worth living? Certainly 
not, if it be wasted in idleness. Even 



152 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



reading is often regarded as a mental dissi- 
pation. It is only a cultivated apathy. 
Hence you find so many grumbling, indif- 
ferent, "loud" youths, their minds polished 
into a sort of intellectual keenness and 
cleverness, breaking out into sarcasm upon 
the acts of others, but doing nothing them- 
selves. They sneer at earnestness of char- 
acter. A lamentable indifference possesses 
these intellectual vagrants. Their souls, if 
they are conscious of possessing them, are 
blown about by every passing wind. They 
understand without beheving. The thoughts 
which such minds receive produce no acts. 
They hold no principles or convictions. 
The religious element is ignored. Their 
creed is nothing, out of which nothing 
comes; no aspirations after the higher life, 
no yearnings after noble ideas or a still 
nobler character. 

A Living Book. 

And yet we have plenty of intellect, but 
no faith ; plenty of knowledge, but no wis- 
dom; plenty of "culture," but no loving- 
kindness. A nation may possess refinement, 
and possess nothing else. Knowledge and 
wisdom, so far from being one, have often no 
connection with each other. It may be 
doubted whether erudition tends to promote 
wisdom or goodness. Fenelon says it is 
better to be a good living book than to love 
good books. A multifarious reading may 
please, but does not feed the mind. St. 
Anselm said that " God often works more 
by the life of the illiterate, seeking the things 
which are God's, than by the ability of the 
learned seeking the things that are their 
own." 

Here is the portrait which a great French 
writer has drawn of his contemporaries : 
"What do you perceive on all sides but a 
profound indifference as to creeds and duties, 



with an ardor for pleasure and for gold, 
which can procure everything you desire ? 
Everything can be bought — conscience, 
honor, religion, opinion, dignities, power, 
consideration, respect itself ; vast shipwrecks 
of all truths and of all virtues ! All philoso- 
phical theories, all the doctrines of impiety, 
have dissolved themselves and disappeared 
in the devouring system of indifference, the 
actual tomb of the understanding, into which 
it goes down alone, naked, equally stripped 
of truth and error ; an empty sepulchre, 
where one cannot find even bones." 

The Riches of the Heart. 

It is this state of society that breeds 
anarchy and confusion. Moral restraint is 
ignored, law is despised, human life is cheap, 
and the assassination of a Russian Czar, one 
or two American Presidents, a Mayor of 
Chicago, and a President of the French 
Republic, are the legitimate fruit of the seed 
that has been sown. There are those who 
change the title of this chapter and say, "Be 
wrong, then go ahead." 

And there are those who sneer at the old- 
fashioned virtues of industry and self-denial, 
energy and self-help. Theirs is a mere 
creed of chilling negations, in which there is 
nothing to admire, nothing to hope for. 
They are sceptics in everything, doing no 
work themselves, but denying the works of 
others. They believe in nothing except 
in themselves. They are their own little 
gods. 

Oh, the vain pride of mere intellectual 
ability ! how worthless, how contemptible, 
when contrasted with the riches of the heart ! 
What is the understanding of the hard dry 
capacity of the brain and body ? A mere 
dead skeleton of opinions, a few dry bones 
tied up together, if there be not a soul to add 
moisture and life, substance and reality, truth 



BE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. 



153 



k 



and joy. Every one will remember the 
modest saying of Newton — perhaps the 
greatest man who ever lived — the discoverer 
of the method of Fluxions, the theory of 
universal gravitation, and the decomposition 
of Hght — that he felt himself but as a child 
playing by the seashore, while the immense 
ocean of truth lay all unexplored before him ! 
Have we any philosophers who will make 
such a confession now? 

Pursuit of Knowledge. 

"What is its earthly victory ? Press on ! 
For it hath tempted angels. Yet press on ! 
For it shall make you mighty among men ; 
And from the eyry of your eagle thought 
Ye shall look down on monarchs. O press on ! 
For the high ones and powerful shall come 
To do you reverence : and the beautiful 
Will know the purer language of your brow. 
And read it like a talisman of love ! 
Press on ! for it is god-like to unloose 
The spirit, and forget yourself in thought ; 
Bending a pinion for the deeper sky, 
And, in the very fetters of your flesh, 
Mating with the pure essence of heaven ! 
Press on !^" for in the grave there is no work, 
And no device." — Press on ! while yet ye may ! 
N. P. Willis. 

What We Should Know. 

What is true knowledge ? Is it with keen eye 

Of lucre's sons to thread the mazy way? 

Is it of civic rights, and royal sway, 
And wealth political, the depths to try? 
Is it to delve the earth, or soar the sky ? 

To marshal nature's tribes in just array? 

To mix, and analyze, and mete, and weigh 
Her elements, and all her powers descry? 
These things, who will may know them, if to know 

Breed not vain glory. But o'er all to scan 
God, in His works and word shown forth below ; 

Creation's wonders, and Redemption's plan ; 
Whence came we, what to do, and whither go : 

This is true knowledge, and " the whole of man." 
Bishop Mant. 

"There are truths," said a well known 
author, " which man can only attain by the 
spirit of his heart. A good man is often 



astonished to find persons of great ability 
resist proofs which appear clear to him. 
These persons are deficient in a certain 
faculty; that is the true meaning. When 
the cleverest man does not possess a sense 
of religion, we cannot only not conquer hiai, 
but we have not even the means of making 
him understand us." Again, Sir Humphry 
Davy said, " Reason is often a dead weight 
in life, destroying feeling, and substituting 
for principle only calculation and caution." 
But the widest field of duty lies outside 
the line of literature and books. Men are 
social beings more than intellectual creatures. 
The best part of human cultivation is derived 
from social contact ; hence courtesy, self- 
respect, mutual toleration, and self-sacrifice 
for the good of others. Experience of men 
is wider than literature. Life is a book which 
lasts one's lifetime, but it requires wisdom to 
understand its difficult pages. 

What Hugh Miller Said. 

In the old times boys had duty placed 
before them as an incentive. To fail was to 
disgrace one's self, and to succeed was 
merely to do one's duty. "i\.s for the 
dream," said Hugh Miller, "that there is to 
be some extraordinary elevation of the gen- 
eral platform of the human race achieved by 
means of education, it is simply the halluci- 
nation of the age — the world's present 
alchemical expedient for converting farthings 
into guineas, sheerly by dint of scouring." 

What spectacle can be sadder than to see 
men, and even women, passing their lives in 
theorizing and gossiping over the great prin- 
ciples which their forefathers really believed ; 
and by believing which, they secured for 
their generation the gifts of faith, of goodness, 
and of well-doing ? There are two thoughts 
which, if once admitted to the mind, change 
our whole course of life — the belief that this 



154 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 



world is but the vestibule of an endless state 
of being, and the thought of Him in whom 
man lives here, or shall live hereafter. We 
each have the choice of following good or 
following evil. Who shall say which shall 
prove the mightier ? It depends upon our- 
selves — on our awakened conscience and 
enlightened will." 

Troubles and sorrows may have to be 



encountered in performing our various duties. 
But these have to be done, and done cheer- 
fully, because it is the will of God. Good 
actions give strength to ourselves, and inspire 
good actions in others. They prove treas- 
ures guarded for the doer's need. Let us 
therefore strengthen our mind, and brace up 
our soul, and prepare our heart for the 
future. The race is for life. 



THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. 



The doors, that knew no shrill alarming, bell, 
Ne cursed knocker plied by villain's hand. 

Self-opened into halls, where, who can tell 
What elegance and grandeur wide expand. 
The pride of Turkey and of Persia land ? 

Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread, 
And couches stretched around in seemly band. 

And endless pillows rise to prop the head ; 

So that each spacious room was one full-swelling bed. 

And everywhere huge covered tables stood, 

With wines high flavored and rich viands crowned : 

Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food 
On the green bosom of this Earth are found, 
And all old Ocean genders in his round : 

Some hand unseen those silently displayed, 
Even undemanded by a sign or sound ; 

You need but wish, and, instantly obeyed, 

Fair ranged the dishes rose, and thick the glasses 
played. 

Each sound, too, here, to languishment inclined, 
I,ulled the weak bosom, and induced ease : 

Aerial music in the warbling wind. 

At distance rising oft, by small degrees. 
Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees 

It hung, and breathed such soul-dissolving airs 
As did, alas ! with soft perdition please : 

Entangled deep in its enchanting snares, 

The listening heart forgot all duties and all cares. 

A certain music, never known before, 

Here lulled the pensive melancholy mind ; 

Full easily obtained. Behoves no more, 
But sidelong, to the gently waving wind. 
To lay the well-tuned instrument reclined, 

From which, with airy-flying fingers light. 
Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, 

The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight, 

Whence, with just cause, the harp of ^olus its hight. 



And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams. 
Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace, 

O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams, 

That played, in waving lights, from place to place, 
And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face. 

Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array. 

With fleecy clouds, the pure ethereal space ; 

Nor could it e'er such melting forms display. 

As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay. 

Here languid Beauty kept her pale-faced court ; 

Bevies of dainty dames, of high degree. 
From every quarter hither made resort ; 

Where, from gross mortal care and business free. 

They lay, poured out in ease and luxury : 
Or should they a vain show of work assume, 

Alas ! and well-a-day ! what can it be ? 
To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom ; 
But far is cast the distaff, spinning-wheel, and loom. 

Their only labor was to kill the time ; 

And labor dire it is, and weary woe : 
They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme, 

Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go, 

Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow : 
This soon too rude an exercise they find ; 

Straight on the couch their limbs again they throw. 
Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined. 
And court the vapory god soft-breathing in the wind. 

Now must I mark the villany we found ; 

But, ah ! too late, as shall full soon be shown. 
A place here was, deep, dreary, undergronnd. 

Where still our inmates, when unpleasing grown, 

Diseased, and loathsome, privily were thrown. 
Far from the light of heaven, they languished there, 

Unpitied, uttering many a bitter groan ; 
For of these wretches taken was no care : 
Fierce fiends, and hags of hell, their only nurses 
were. 



BE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. 



155 



Alas ! the change ! from scenes of joy and rest, 

To this dark den, where Sickness tossed alway. 

Here Lethargy, with deadly sleep opprest. 
Stretched on his back, a mighty lubbard, lay, 
Heaving his sides, and snoring night and day ; 

To stir him from his trance it was not eath, 

And his half-opened eyes he shut straightway ; 

He led, I wot, the softest way to death. 

And taught withouten pain and strife to yield the 
breath. 

Of limbs enormous, but withal unsound, 
Soft-swoln and pale, here lay the Hydropsy : 

Unweildy man ! with belly monstrous round, 
Forever fed with watery supply : 
For still he drank, and yet he still was dry. 

And moping here did Hypochondria sit. 
Mother of Spleen, in robes of various dye. 

Who vexed was full oft with an ugly fit ; 

And some her frantic deemed, and some her deemed 
a wit. 



A lady proud she was of ancient blood, 
Yet oft her fear her pride made crouchen low ; 

She felt, or fancied, in her fluttering mood, 
All the diseases which the spitals know, 
And sought all physic which the shops bestow, 

And still new leaches and new drugs would try. 
Her humor ever wavering to and fro ; 

For sometimes she would laugh, and sometimes cry. 

Then sudden waxed wroth, and all she knew not 
why. 

Fast by her side a listless maiden pined. 

With aching head, and squeamish heart-burnings ; 
Pale, bloated, cold, she seemed to hate mankind, 

Yet loved in secret all forbidden things. 

And here the Tertian shakes his chilling wings ; 
The sleepless Gout here counts the crowing cocks ; 

A wolf now gnaws him, now a serpent stings ; 
Whilst Apoplexy crammed Intemperance knocks 
Down to the ground at once, as butcher felleth ox. 
James Thomson. 








156 



BOOK II. 

THE CARDINAL YIRTUES, 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE GREATEST OF THESE 15 CHARITY.' 




OVE is chief of all the virtues that 
bless the world and make it 
happier. True charity gives to 
the poor ; it is also slow to con- 
demn another, and puts a favor- 
able construction on human 
faults and errors, but the root 
of these actions is love in the heart. The 
spirit of kindness, of philanthropy, of good- 
will, is what we wish to urge upon all who 
read these pages. 

Are we growing wiser ? Do we begin to 
see that if we would make men better and 
happier we must resort to that grandest of 
all forces — gentleness ? Such a method of 
treating human beings has never in any case 
produced resistance or rebellion ; has never 
made them worse, but in all cases made them 
better. Love is a constraining power ; it 
elevates and civilizes all who come under its 
influence. It indicates faith in man, and 
without faith in man's better nature no 
methods of treatment will avail in improving 
him. 

Kindness draws out the better part of 
every nature — disarming resistance, dissipa- 
ting angry passions, and melting the hardest 
heart. It overcomes evil, and strengthens 
good. Extend the principle to nations, and 



it still applies. It has already banished feuds 
between clans, between provinces ; let it have 
free play, and war between nations will also 
cease. Though the idea may seem absurd 
now, future generations will come to regard 
war as a crime too horrible to be perpetrated. 

Love to Our Fellow-Men. 

Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase, 

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 

And saw within the moonlight in his room, 

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, 

An angel, writing in a book of gold. 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 

And to the presence in his room he said : 

" What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head, 

And with a look, made all of sweet accord, 

Answered, ' ' The names of those that love the Lord." 

"And is mine one? " said Abou. " Nay, not so," 

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 

But cheerly still, and said, "I pray thee, then, 

"Write me as one that loves his fellow-men. ' ' 

The Angel wrote and vanished. The next night 

He came again with a great waking light, 

And showed the names whom love of God had blest, 

And, lo ! Ben Adhem' s name led all the rest. 

Leigh Hunt. 

"Love," says Emerson, " would put a new 
face on this weary old world, in which we 
dwell as pagans and enemies too long; and 
it would warm the heart to see how fast the 
vain diplomacy of statesmen, the impotence 
of armies and navies, and lines of defence, 

157 



158 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARIIY." 



would be superseded by this unarmed child. 
Love will creep where it cannot go; will 
accomplish that, by imperceptible methods — 
being its own fulcrum, lever and power — 
which force could never achieve. 

" Have you not seen in the woods, in a late 
autumn morning, a poor fungus or mush- 
room, a plant without any solidity, nay, that 
seemed nothing but a soft mush or jelly, by 
its constant, bold and inconceivably gentle 
pushing, manage to break its way up through 
the frosty ground, and actually to hft a hard 
crust on its head? This is the symbol of the 
power of kindness. The virtue of this prin- 
ciple in human society, in application to great 
interests, is obsolete and forgotten. Once 
or twice in history it has been tried, in illus- 
trious instances, with signal success. This 
great, overgrown, dead Christendom of ours 
still keeps alive, at least, the name of a lover 
of mankind. But one day all men will be 
lovers, and every calamity will be dissolved 
in the universal sunshine." 

" Each for Himself." 

There are many families, the members of 
which are, without doubt, dear to each other. 
If sickness or sudden trouble falls on one, 
all are afflicted, and make haste to sympathize, 
help, and comfort. But in their daily life and 
ordinary intercourse there is not only no 
expression of affection, none of the pleasant 
and fond behavior that has, perhaps, little 
dignity, but which more than makes up for 
that in its sweetness ; but there is an absolute 
hardness of language and actions which is 
shocking to every sensitive and tender feeling. 

Between father and mother, and brother 
and sister, pass rough and hasty words ; yes, 
and angry words, far more frequently than 
words of endearment. To see and hear them, 
one would think that they hated, instead of 
loved each other. It does not seem to have 



entered into their heads that it is their duty, 
as it should be their best pleasure, to do and 
say all that they possibly can for each other's 
good and happiness. " Each one for himself, 
and bad luck take the hindermost." 

The father orders and growls, the mother 
frets, complains, and scolds, the children snap, 
snarl, and whine, and so goes the day. Alas 
for it, if this is a type of heaven! — as "the 
family" — is said to be — at least, it is said to 
be the nearest thing to heaven of anything on 
earth. But the spirit of selfishness, of vio- 
lence, renders it more like the other place — 
yes, and this too often, even when all the 
members of the household are members of 
the Church. Where you see — when you 
know it — one family where love and gentle- 
ness reign, you see ten where they only make 
visits, and this among Christian families as 
well as others. 

A Family Bear-Garden. 

Now, it is a sad and melancholy thing to 
"sit solitary" in life, but give me a cave in 
the bowels of earth, give me a lodge in any 
waste, howling wilderness, where foot nor 
face of human being ever came, rather than 
an abode with parents, friends, or kindred, in 
which I must hear or utter language which 
causes pain, or where I must see conduct 
which is not born of love. 

No wealth, no advantage of any kind, 
would induce me to live with people whose 
intercourse was of such a nature. The 
dearer they were to me, the less would I 
remain among them, if they did not do all 
they could to make each other happy. With 
mere strangers one might endure, even under 
such circumstances, to remain for a time ; for 
what they say or do has but limited effect 
upon one's feelings ; but how members of the 
same family, children of the same parents, 
can remain together, year after year, when 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



159 



every day they hear quarreling, if they do 
not join in it, and when hard words fly on all 
sides of them, thick as hail, and the very 
visitors in their house are rendered uncom- 
fortable by them, is indeed a mystery. 

*' Count life by virtues these will last 
When life's lame, foiled, race is o'er ; 
And these, when earthly joys are past. 
Shall cheer us on a brighter shore." 

There is an old song that is so beautiful 
and pathetic, and teaches such a wholesome 
lesson, that it is worthy of being reproduced 
here as a gentle adt^.onition to all who read 
these pages. 

Kindness at Home. 

Be kind to thy father, for when thou wast young. 

Who loved thee so fondly as he? 
He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue. 

And joined in thy innocent glee : 
Be kind to thy father, for now he is old, 

His locks intermingled with gray ; 
His footsteps are feeble — once fearless and bold : 

Thy father is passing away. 

Be kind to thy mother, for lo ! on her brow 

May traces of sorrow be seen ; 
Oh ! well mayst thou cherish and comfort her now. 

For loving and kind she hath been : 
Remember thy mother ! for thee will she pray, 

As long as God giveth her breath ; 
With accents of kindness, then cheer her lone way, 

E'en to the dark valley of death. 

Be kind to thy brother ! his heart will have dearth 

If the smiles of thy joy be withdrawn ; 
The flowers of feeling will fade at the birth. 

If love and affection be gone. 
Be kind to thy brother, wherever you are ; 

The love of a brother shall be 
An ornament purer and richer, by far, 

Than pearls from the depths of the sea. 

Be kind to thy sister ! not many may know 

The depth of true sisterly love ; 
The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below 

The surface that sparkles above ; 
Thy kindness shall bring to thee many sweet hours. 

And blessings thy pathway shall crown ; 
Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers, 

More precious than wealth or renown. 



Says a well-known writer: " Affection does 
not beget weakness, nor is it effeminate for a 
brother to be tenderly attached to his sisters. 
That boy will make the noblest, the bravest 
man. On the battle-field, in many terrible 
battles during our late horrible war, I always 
noticed that those boys who had been reared 
under the tenderest home culture always 
made the best soldiers. They were always 
brave, always endured the severe hardships 
of camp, the march, or on the bloody field 
most silently, and were most dutiful at every 
call. More, much more, they resisted the 
frightful temptations that so often surrounded 
them, and seldom returned to their loved 
ones stained with the sins incident to war. 

"Another point, they were always kind and 
polite to those whom they met in the enemy's 
country. Under their protection, woman was 
always safe. How often I have heard one 
regiment compared with another, when the 
cause of the difference was not comprehended 
by those who drew the comparison ! I knew 
the cause — it was the home education. 

Manly AfFection. 

"We see the same every day in the busy- 
life of the city. Call together one hundred 
young men in our city, and spend an evening 
with them, and we will tell you their home 
education. Watch them as they approach 
young ladies, and converse with them, and 
we will show you who have been trained 
under the influence of home affection and 
politeness, and those who have not. 

"That young man who was accustomed 
to kiss his sweet, innocent, loving sister night 
and morning as they met, shows its influence 
upon him, and he will never forget it ; and 
when he shall take some one to his heart as 
his wife, she shall reap the golden fruit 
thereof. The young man who was in the 
habit of giving his arm to his sister as they 




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PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD-WILL TO MEN. 



160 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



walked to and from church, will never leave 
his wife to find her way as best she can. 
The young man who has been taught to see 
that his sister had a seat before he sought 
his, will never mortify a neglected wife in the 
presence of strangers. And that young man 
who always handed his sister to her chair at 
the table, will never have cause to blush 
as he sees some gentleman extend to his 
wife the courtesy she knows is due from 
liim. 

" Mothers and daughters, wives and sisters, 
remember that, and remember that you have 
the making of the future of this great country, 
and rise at once to your high and holy duty. 
Remember that you must make that future, 
whether you will or not. We are all what 
you make us. Ah! throw away your weak- 
ening follies of fashion, and soul-famine, and 
rise to the level where God intended you 
should be, and make every one of your 
homes, from this day, schools of true polite- 
ness and tender affection. 

"Take those little curly-headed boys, and 
teach them all you would have men to be, 
and my word for it, they will be just such 
men, and will go forth to bless the world, 
and crown you with a glory such as queens 
and empresses never dreamed of Wield 
your power now, and you shall reap the 
fruit in your ripe age." 

Home Teaching. 

Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, 
To teach the 3'oung idea how to shoot, 
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
To breathe the enliv'ning spirit, and to fix 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
James Thomson. 

The Happiest Home. 

Where is the happiest home on earth ? 
Tis not 'mid scenes of noisy mirth ; 
But where God's favor, sought aright, 
Fills every breast with joy and light. 
11 



The richest home ? It is not found 

W jere wealth and splendor most abound ; 

But wheresoe'er, in hall or cot, 

Men live contented with their lot. 

The fairest home ? It is not placed 
In scenes with outward beauty graced ; 
But where kind words and smiles impart 
A constant sunshine to the heart. 

On such a home of peace and love 
God showers his blessing from above ; 
And angels, watching o'er it, cry, 
" IvO ! this is like our home on high ! " 

A good story of two neighbors living in 
New Jersey is told by one of them, and shows 
how a soft answer will turn away wrath and 
how kindness will soften a surly spirit. 

Those Troublesome Hens. 

" I once owned," he says, " a large flock 
of hens. I generally kept them shut up. 
But one spring, I concluded to let them run 
in my yard, after I had clipped their wings 
so that they could not fly. One day when I 
came home to dinner, I learned that one of 
my neighbors had been there full of wrath, 
to let me know that my hens had been in his 
garden, and that he had killed several of 
them, and thrown them over into my yard. 
I was greatly enraged because he had killed 
my beautiful hens that I valued so much. I 
determined at once to be revenged, to sue 
him, or in some way to get redress. 

" I sat down and ate my dinner as calmly 
as I could. By the time I had finished my 
meal, I became more cool, and thought that 
perhaps it was not best to fight with my 
neighbor about hens, and thereby make him 
my bitter enemy. I concluded to try another 
way, being sure that it would be better. 
After dinner, I went to my neighbor's. He 
was in his garden. I went out, and found 
him in pursuit of one of my hens with a club, 
trying to kill it. I accosted him. 



162 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 



" He turned upon me, his face inflamed 
with wrath, and broke out in a great fury, 
' You have abused me. I will kill all of your 
hens, if I can get them. I never was so 
abused. My garden is ruined.' " 

" ' I am sorry for it,' said I ; ' I did not wish 
to injure you ; and now see that I have made 
a great mistake in letting out my hens. I 
ask your forgiveness, and am wiUing to pay 
you six times the damage.' 

"The man seemed confounded. He did 
not know what to make of it. He looked 
up to the sky, then down at the earth, then 
at his neighbor, then at his club, and then at 
the poor hen he had been pursuing, and said 
nothing. 

" ' Tell me now,' said I, ' what is the damage, 
and I will pay you sixfold; and my hens shall 
trouble you no more. I will leave it entirely 
to you to say what I shall do. I cannot 
afford to lose the love and goodwill of my 
neighbors, and quarrel with them, for hens 
or anything else.' 

The Quarrel Settled. 

" ' I am a great fool ! ' said my neighbor. 
' The damage is not worth talking about ; 
and I have more need to compensate you 
than you me, and to ask your forgiveness 
than you mine.' " 

This incident shows that there is a better 
way of settling quarrels than by resentment 
and retaliation. The just and generous spirit 
softens hatred and hard-heartedness. It is 
a remarkable fact that multitudes of persons 
do business all their lives and never have 
disagreements with others, never incur the 
censure of their neighbors and never have 
to go into court to settle disputes, while 
there are many who never seem to be able 
to keep out of court and are always in trou- 
ble with someone who, they imagine, has 
injured them. There will be a good crop of 



lawyers so long as such persons act out their 
native disposition. They appear to enjoy a 
lawsuit; they are porcupines with the quills 
always erect and bristling. 

B_n Franklin knew how to conquer an 
enemy. He never attempted to do it with 
a cudgel. In 1736 he was chosen clerk of 
the General Assembly of Pennsylvania — his 
first promotion, as he calls it in his narrative. 
The choice was annual, and the year follow- 
ing a new member made a long speech 
against his re-election. We copy what he 
relates on this occasion, because it is every 
way characteristic: 

Kindness Conquered. 

"As the place was highly desirable for me 
on many accounts, I did not like the oppo- 
sition of this new member, who was a gen- 
tleman of fortune and education, with talents 
that were likely to give him in time great 
influence in the House, which indeed after- 
wards happened. I did not, however, aim 
at gaining his favor by paying any servile 
respect to him, but after sometime took this 
other method. Having heard that he had in 
his library a certain very scarce and curious 
book, I wrote a note to him expressing my 
desire of perusing that book, and requesting 
that he would do me the favor of lending it 
to me for a few days. 

" He sent it immediately, and I returned it 
in about a week with another note, strongly 
expressing my sense of the favor. When 
we next met in the House, he spoke to me — 
which he had never done before — and with 
great civility; and he ever after manifested a 
readiness to serve me on all occasions, so 
that we became great friends, and our friend- 
ship continued to his death. This is another 
instance of the truth of an old maxim I had 
learned, which says, ' He that has once done 
you a kindness will be more ready to do you 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



163 



another than he whom you yourself have 
obliged.' " And it shows how much more 
profitable it is prudently to remove, than to 
resent, return and continue inimical proceed- 
ings. 

Speaking to the young on this point, Hor- 
ace Mann says : " You are made to be kind, 
boys, generous, magnanimous. If there is a 
boy in school who has a club foot, don't let 
him know you ever saw it. If there is a 
poor boy with ragged clothes, don't talk 
about rags in his hearing. If there is a lame 
boy, assign him some part of the game 
which does not require running. If there is 
a hungry one, give him part of your dinner. 
If there is a dull one, help him to get his 
lesson. If there is a bright one, be not 
envious of him ; for if one boy is proud of 
his talents, and another is envious of them, 
there are two great wrongs, and no more 
talent than before. If a larger and stronger 
boy has injured you, and is sorry for it, for- 
give him. All the school will show by their 
countenances how much better it is than to 
have a great fist." 

An Act of Kindness. 

The blessings which the weak aud poor can scatter 

Have their own season. 'Tis a little thing 

To give a cup of water ; yet its draught 

Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, 

May give a thrill of pleasure to the frame 

More exquisite than when nectarean juice 

Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. 

It is a little thing to speak a phrase 

Of common comfort which by daily use 

Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear 

Of him who thought to die unmourned 'twill fall 

Like choicest music, fill the glazing eye 

With gentle tears, relax the knotted hand 

To know the bonds of fellowship again, 

And shed on the departing soul a sense 

More precious than the benison of friends 

About the honored death-bed of the rich, 

To him who else were lonely, that another 

Of the great family is near and feels. 

Thomas Noon Tai,fourd. 



Men are very slow to give up their faith 
in physical force, as necessary for the guid- 
ance, correction and discipline of others. 
Force is the short way of settling matters, 
without any weighing of arguments. It is 
the summary logic of the barbarians, among 
whom the best man is he who strikes the 
heaviest blow or takes the surest aim. 

Coaxing Rather than Driving. 

Even civilized nations have been very slow 
to abandon their faith in force. Until very 
recent times, men of honor, who chanced to 
fall out, settled their quarrels by the duel; 
and governments, almost without exception, 
have resorted to arms to settle their quarrels 
as to territory or international arrangements. 
Indeed, we have been so trained and edu- 
cated into a belief in the efficacy of force — 
war has become so identified in history with, 
honor, glory and all sorts of high-sounding: 
names — that we can scarcely imagine it pos- 
sible that the framework of society could be 
held together, were the practice of force dis- 
carded, and that of love, benevolence and 
justice substituted in its place. 

And yet doubts are widely entertained as 
to the efficacy of the policy of force. It is 
suspected that force becjets more resistance 
than it is worth, and that if men are put 
down by violent methods, a spirit of rebellion 
is created, which breaks out from time to 
time in violent deeds, in hatred, in vice and 
in crime. Such, indeed, has been the issue 
of the policy of force in all countries and in 
all times. The history of the world is, to a 
great extent, the history of the failure of 
physical force. 

On two great occasions America and 
Great Britain have taught the rest of the 
world that it is possible to settle disputes by 
arbitration. When claims were made by 
our government against Great Britain for 



164 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 



depredations committed on the high seas 
during our civil war, instead of settling the 
difficulty by an appeal to the sword, a court 
of arbitration assembled at Geneva, Switzer- 
land, discussed the whole matter in a friendly 
spirit, and came to a conclusion that was 
binding upon both nations. And later a 
similar course was pursued in the dispute 
concerning the seal fisheries in Bering Sea. 
Let this thing go on and some so-called 
Christian nations may become civilized and 
not rush into war on every pretext like a 
gang of barbarians. Peace has finer victo- 
ries than war. 

Inhuman Cruelty. 

The principle of force has, in past times, 
been dismally employed in the treatment of 
lunatics, lepers, galley slaves and criminals. 
Lunatics were chained and put in cages like 
wild beasts. The lepers were banished from 
the towns, and made to live in some remote 
quarter, away from human beings — though 
themselves human. The galley slaves were 
made to tug at the oar until they expired in 
misery. Criminals were crowded together 
without regard to age or sex, until the 
prisons of Europe became the very sink of 
iniquity. Some four hundred years ago 
criminals were given over to be vivisected 
alive by the surgeons of Florence and Pisa. 
Their place has now been taken by dumb 
brutes. 

We hear of the dungeons and chains in 
the castles of chivalry; but what tales of 
misery and of cruelty are unfolded before 
the legal tribunals of the moderns ! Search 
the annals of the poor in our great cities, 
and how often will you have to say with 
Jeremy Taylor, " This is an uncharitableness 
next to the cruelties of savages, and an 
infinite distance from the mercies of Jesus ! " 

The benevolent spirit of John Howard was 



first directed to the reform of prisons by a 
personal adventure of a seemingly accidental 
nature. He was on a voyage to Portugal 
at a time when Lisbon was an object of 
painful interest — still smoking in ruins from 
the effects of the memorable earthquake. 
He had not proceeded far on his voyage 
when the packet in which he had embarked 
was captured by a French privateer. He 
was treated with great cruelty. He was 
allowed no food or water for forty-eight 
hours; and after landing at Brest he was 
imprisoned in the castle with the rest of the 
captives. They were cast into a filthy dun- 
geon, and were kept for a considerable time 
longer without food. 

At length a joint of mutton was flung into 
the den, which the unhappy men were forced 
to tear in pieces, and gnaw like wild beasts. 
The prisoners experienced the same cruel 
treatment for a week, and were compelled 
to lie on the floor of the horrible dungeon, 
with nothing but straw to shelter them from 
the noxious and pestilential damps of the 
place. 

Every Prison Was a Hell. 

Howard was at last set at liberty, and 
returned to England; but he gave himself 
no rest until he had succeeded in liberating 
many of his fellow-prisoners. He then 
opened a correspondence with English 
prisoners in other jails and fortresses ok 
the Continent; and found that sufferings 
as bad, or even greater than his own, were 
the common lot of the captives. 

Shortly after his attention was called to 
the state of English prisons, in the course 
of his duties as High Sheriff of the County 
of Bedford. This office is usually an hono- 
rary one, leading merely to a little pomp and 
vain show. But with Howard it was differ- 
ent. To be appointed to an office was with 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



him to incur the obligation to fulfil its duties. 
He sat in court and listened attentively to 
the proceedings. When the trials were over 
he visited the prison in which the criminals 
were confined. There he became acquainted 
with the shamefijl and brutal treatment of 
malefactors. The sight that met his eyes in 
prison revealed to him the nature of his 
future life-mission. 

The prisons of England, as well as of other 
countries, were then in a frightful state. The 
prisoners were neither separated nor classified. 
The comparatively innocent and the abom- 
inably guilty were herded together ; so that 
common jails became the hotbeds of crime. 
The hungry man who stole a loaf of bread 
found himself in contact with the burglar or 
the murderer. The debtor and the forger — 
the petty thief and the cut-throat — the dis- 
honest girl and the prostitute — were all 
mixed together. Swearing, cursing, and 
blaspheming pervaded the jail. Religious 
worship was unknown. The place was made 
over to Beelzebub. The devil was king. 

Disease and Death. 

Howard thus simply tells his impressions 
as to the treatment of prisoners: "Some 
who by the verdict of juries were declared 
not guilty — some on whom the grand jury 
did not find such an appearance of guilt as 
subjected them to a trial — and some whose 
prosecutors did not appear against them — 
after having been confined for months, were 
dragged back to jail, and locked up again 
until they should pay sundry fees to the 
jailer, the clerk of assize, and such like." 

He also remarked that the "hard-hearted 
creditors," who sometimes threatened their 
debtors that they should rot in jail, had 
indeed a very truthful significance ; for that 
in jail men really did rot — literally sinking 
and festering from filth and malaria. Howard 



estimated that, numerous as were the lives 
sacrificed on the gallows, quite as many fell 
victims to cold and damp, disease and hunger. 
The jailers' salaries were not paid by the 
public, but by the discharged innocents. 
Howard pleaded with the justices of the 
peace that a salary should be paid to the 
jailer. He was asked for a precedent. He 
said he would find one. He mounted his 
horse, and rode throughout the country for 
the precedent. He visited county jails far 
and near. He did not find a precedent for 
the payment of a salary to the jailer, but he 
found an amount of wretchedness and misery 
prevailing among the prisoners, which de- 
termined him to devote himself to the 
reformation of the jails of England and of 
the world. 

Chained on their Backs. 

At Gloucester he found the castle in the 
most horrible condition. The castle had 
become the jail. It had a common court for 
all the prisoners, male and female. The 
debtors' ward had no windows. The night 
room for men felons was close and dark. A 
fever had prevailed in the jail, which carried 
off many of the prisoners. The keeper had 
no salary. The debtors had no allowance 
of food. 

In the city of Ely the accommodation was 
no better. To prevent the prisoners' escape 
they were chained on their backs to the floor. 
Several bars of iron were placed over them, 
and an iron collar covered with spikes was 
fastened round their necks. At Norwich the 
cells were built under ground, and the pris- 
oners were given an allowance of straw, 
which cost a guinea a year. The jailer not 
only had no salary, but he paid two hundred 
dollars a year to the under-sheriff for his 
situation ! He made his income by extortion, 

Howard went on from place to place. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



167 



inspired by his noble mission. The idea of 
ameliorating the condition of prisoners en- 
grossed his whole thoughts, and possessed 
him like a passion. No toil, nor danger, nor 
bodily suffering could turn him from the 
great object of his life. He went from one 
end of England to the other, in order to drag 
forth to the light the disgusting mysteries of 
the British prison-houses. In many cases he 
gave freedom to such as were confined for 
some petty debt, and to many others who 
were utterly guiltless of crime. 

Light in the Dungeons. 

Upon the conclusion of his survey the 
House of Commons resolved itself into a 
■committee, in order to ascertain the actual 
state of the case. He appeared before it, 
laden with his notes. In the course of the 
inquiry a member, surprised at the extent 
and minuteness of his information, inquired 
at whose expense he had travelled. Howard 
was almost choked before he could reply. 

The thanks of the Legislature were given 
him at the close of his evidence. They fol- 
lowed in the track which he had pointed out. 
Bills were passed abohshing all fees, provid- 
ing salaries for the jailers, and ordering all 
prisoners to be discharged immediately upon 
acquittal. It was also directed that all jails 
should be cleansed, whitewashed, and venti- 
lated; that infirmaries should be erected for 
the healing and maintenance of prisoners ; 
and that proper jails should be built. How- 
ard was confined to his bed while the bills 
passed ; but so soon as he had recovered 
from the illness and fatigue to which his self- 
imposed labors had subjected him, he rose 
again, and revisited the jails, for the purpose 
of ascertaining that the Acts were duly 
carried out. 

Having exhausted England, Howard pro- 
ceeded into Scotland and Ireland, and in- 



spected the jails in those countries. He 
found them equally horrible, and published 
the results of his inquiries with equal suc- 
cess. Then he proceeded to the Continent, 
to inquire into the prison accommodation 
there. At Paris the gates of the Bastille 
were closed against him ; but as respects the 
other French prisons, though they were bad 
enough, they were far superior to those of 
England. When it was ascertained that 
Howard was making inquiries about the 
Bastille, an order was issued for his impris- 
onment, but he escaped in time. He re- 
venged himself by publishing an account 
of the State prison, translated from a work 
recently published, which he obtained after 
great difficulty and trouble. 

His Errand of Love. 

Howard travelled onward to Belgium, 
Holland and Germany. He made notes 
everywhere, and obtained a large amount 
of information — the result of enormous 
labor. After returning to England, to see 
that the work of prison reform had taken 
root, he proceeded to Switzerland, on the 
same errand of love. He there found the 
science of prison discipline revealed. The 
prisoners were made to work, not only for 
their own benefit, but to diminish the taxes 
levied for the maintenance of prisons. 

After three years of indefatigable work, 
during which he travelled more than thir- 
teen thousand miles, Howard published his 
great work on "The State of Prisons." It 
was received with great sensation. He was 
again examined by the House of Commons 
as to the further measures required for the 
reformation of prisoners. He recommended 
houses of correction. He had observed one 
at Amsterdam, which he thought might be 
taken as a model. 

He again proceeded thither to ascertain 



168 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 



its method of working. From Holland he 
went to Prussia; crossed Silesia, through the 
opposing ranks of the armies of Austria and 
Prussia. He spent some time at Vienna, and 
proceeded to Italy. At Rome he applied for 
admission to the dungeons of the Inquisition. 
But, as at the Bastille in France, the gates of 
the Inquisition were closed against him. All 
others were opened. He returned home 
through France, having travelled four thou- 
sand six hundred miles during this tour. 

A Man and W^oman Whipped. 

Wherever he went he was received with 
joy. The blessings of the imprisoned fol- 
lowed him. He distributed charity with an 
open hand. But he did more. He opened 
the eyes of the thoughtful and the charitable 
of all countries to the importance of prison 
reform. 

He never resi.ed. He again visited the 
prisons in Great Britain, travelling nearly 
seven thousand miles. He found that his 
previous efforts had done some good. The 
flagrant abuses which he had before observed 
had been removed; and the jails were cleaner, 
healthic" and more orderly. He made 
another foreign tour to amplify his know- 
leoge. He had visited the jails of the 
southern countries of Europe. He now 
resolved to visit those of Russia. He 
entered Petersburg alone and on foot. The 
police discovered him, and he was invited to 
visit the Empress Catharine at Court. He 
respectfully informed her Majesty that he 
had come to Russia to visit the dungeons 
of the captives and the abodes of the 
wretched, not the palaces and courts of 
kings and queens. 

Armed with power, he went to see the 
infliction of the knout. A man and woman 
were brought out. The man received sixty 
strokes, and the woman twenty-five. "I 



saw the woman," says Howard, "in a very 
weak condition some days after, but could 
not find the man any more." Determined 
to ascertain what had become of him, How- 
ard visited the executioner. "Can you," he 
said, "inflict the knout so as to occasion 
death in a very short time?" "Yes!" "In 
how short a time?" "In a day or two." 
"Have you ever so inflicted it?" "I have!" 
"Have you lately?" "Yes! the last man 
who was punished by my hand with the 
knout died of the punishment." " In what 
manner do you thus render it mortal?" 
"By one or two strokes on the sides, which, 
carry off large pieces of flesh." " Do you 
receive orders thus to inflict the punish- 
ment?" "I do!" 

Thus the boast of Russia that capital 
punishments had been abolished throughout 
the empire was effectually exposed. 

The Prisoners' Friend. 

He wrote from Moscow that "no less than 
seventy thousand recruits for the army and 
navy have died in the Russian hospitals dur- 
ing a single year." Now, Howard was an 
accurate man, incapable of saying anything 
but the truth ; and therefore, this horrible 
fact cannot but heighten our detestation both 
.ofwar and of despotism. From Russia he 
travelled home by way of Poland, Prussia, 
Honover, and the Austrian Netherlands. 
He also travelled for the same purpose 
through Spain and Portugal. He published 
the results of his travels in a second appendix 
to his great work. 

Twelve years had now passed since How- 
ard had given himself up to the absorbing 
pursuit of his life. He had travelled upward 
of forty-two thousand miles in visiting the 
jails of the chief towns and cities of Europe; 
and he had expended upward of one hun- 
dred and fifty thousand dollars in relieving 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



16& 



the prisoners, the sick and the friendless. 
He had not, however, finished his work. He 
determined to visit the countries where the 
plague prevailed, in order, if possible, to dis- 
cover a remedy for this frightful disease. 
His object was to go, in the first place, to 
Marseilles, through France. 

He set out for Paris. The French, re- 
membering his pamphlet on the Bastille, 
prohibited him from appearing on the soil of 
France. He disguised himself, and entered 
Paris. During the same night in which he 
arrived he was roused from his bed by the 
police. A lucky thought enabled him to 
dispose of them for a few minutes, during 
which he rose, dressed himself, escaped from 
the house, and was forthwith on his way to 
Marseilles. He there obtained admission to 
the Lazaretto, and obtained the information 
which he required. 

His Last Journey. 

He sailed for Smyrna, where the plague 
was raging. From thence the resolute 
philanthropist sailed to the Adriatic by an 
infected vessel, in order that he might be 
subjected to the strictest quarantine. He 
took the fever, and lay in quarantine for 
forty days — suffering fearfully, without help, 
alone in his misery. At length he recovered, 
and made his way home to England. He 
visited his country estate, provided for the 
poor of the neighborhood, and parted from 
his humble friends as a father from his 
children. 

He had one more journey to make. It 
was his last. His intention was to extend 
his inquiries on the subject of the plague. 
He proceeded through Holland, Germa:ny, 
and Russia, intending to go to Turkey, 
Egypt, and the States of Barbary. But he 
was only able to travel as far as Kherson, in 
Russian Tartary There, as usual, he visited 



the prisoners, and caught the jail fever. 
Alone, among strangers, he sickened and 
died in his sixty-fourth year. To one who 
was by his bedside, he marked a spot in a 
churchyard in Dauphiny, where he wished 
to be buried. " Lay me quietly in the earth, 
place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me 
be forgotten." 

But the noble Howard will not be forgotten 
so long as the memory of man lasts. He 
was the benefactor of the most miserable of 
men. He thought nothing of himself, but 
only of those who without him would have 
been friendless and unhelped. In his own 
time he achieved a remarkable degree of 
success. But his influence did not die with 
him, for it has continued to influence not only 
the legislation of England, but of all civilized 
nations, down to the present time. 

Burke thus described him : " He visited 
all Europe to dive into the depths of dun- 
geons; to plunge into the infection of 
hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow 
and pain; to take the gauge and dimensions 
of misery, depression, and contempt; to 
remember the forgotten; to attend the 
neglected ; to visit the forsaken; to compare 
and collect the distresses of all men in all 
countries. His plan is original, and it is as 
full of genius as it is of humanity. It is a 
voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of 
charity; and already the benefit of his labor 
is felt more or less in every country." 

Works of Philanthropy. 

From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crowned. 

Where'er mankind and misery are found, 

O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow, 

Mild Howard journeying seeks the house of woe. 

Down many a winding step to dungeons dank, 

Where anguish wails aloud and fetters clank. 

To caves bestrewed with many a mouldering bone. 

And cells whose echoes only learn to groan, 

Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, 

No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows ; 



170 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 



He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, 
Profuse of toil and prodigal of health ; 
Leads stern-eyed Justice to the dark domains, 
If not to sever, to relax the chains ; 
Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife, 
To her fond husband liberty and life- 
Onward he moves ! disease and death retire, 
And murmuring demons hate him and admire. 

E. Darwin. 

The example of this great benefactor of 
his race is convincing proof of what may be 
accomplished by one brave man, acting out 
the law of kindness and brotherly love. 
Every individual may show the same spirit 
in the sphere he occupies, whether great or 
small. 

Mrs. Fry in Newgate Prison. 
From the time of Howard the treatment 
of prisoners has been greatly improved. At 
first it was only benevolent persons who 
aimed at their improvement, such as Sarah 
Martin, Mrs. Fry and other kindred spirits. 
Sydney Smith mentions that on one occasion 
he requested permission to accompany Mrs. 
Fry to Newgate Prison, London. He was 
so moved by the sight that he wept like a 
child. Referring to the subject afterward, 
in a sermon, he said, '"There is a spectacle 
which this town now exhibits that I will 
venture to call the most solemn, the most 
Christian, the most affecting which any 
human being ever witnessed. To see that 
holy woman in the midst of the wretched 
prisoners; to see them all calling earnestly 
upon God, soothed by her voice, animated 
by her look, clinging to the hem of her 
garment, and worshipping her as the only 
being who has ever loved them, or taught 
them, or noticed them, or spoken to them 
of God ! This is the sight that breaks down 
the pageant of the world; which tells them 
that the short hour of life is passing away, 
and that we must prepare by some good 



deeds to meet God ; that it is time to give, 
to pray, to comfort; to go, like this blessed 
woman, and do the work of our heavenly 
Saviour, Jesus, among the guilty, among 
the broken-hearted and the sick, and to 
labor in the deepest and the darkest wretch- 
edness of life." 

Mrs. Fry succeeded, by her persevering 
efforts, in effecting a complete reformation in 
the state of the prison, and in the conduct 
of the female prisoners; insomuch that the 
grand jury, in their report, after a visit to 
Newgate, state, "that if the principles which 
govern her regulations were adopted toward 
the males as well as the females, it would be 
the means of converting a prison into a 
school of reform; and instead of sending 
criminals back into the world hardened in 
vice and depravity, they would be repentant, 
and probably become useful members of 
society." 

A Friend of Boys and Girls. 

Mrs. Tatnall also, a woman less known 
than Mrs. Fry, devoted herself to the 
reformation and improvement of the pris- 
oners in Warwick jail, of which her husband 
was governor. Many a criminal was brought 
back by her from the ways of vice to those 
of virtue and industry. Boys and girls, 
being younger in iniquity, were the especial 
subjects of her care. She was almost in- 
variably successful in her efforts to restore 
them to society. 

But individual help could do but little in 
improving or reclaiming the mass of pris- 
oners. It was only by the help of the Legis- 
lature that so large a question could be 
treated. One of the chief objects of legisla- 
tion is to prevent crime by removing the 
inducements to commit it; and the main 
object of prison discipline is to reform the 
moral condition of the criminal, and to lead 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



1?\ 



him back to the bosom of the society against 
which he has sinned. This, as a matter of 
justice, is due to the criminal, who is too 
often made so by the circumstances in which 
he has been brought up, by his want of 
training, and by the unequal laws which 
society has enacted. 

Before, society took its revenge upon 
criminals, and treated them like wild beasts ; 
now, a milder treatment is adopted, with a 
view to their reclamation. The governors 
of the Sing Sing Penitentiary, in the State 
of New York, led the way in the reforma- 
tory treatment of criminals. Their attention 
was directed to the subject by the reports of 
Mr. Edmonds. 

Sympathy and Kindness. 

He said that "he had no faith whatever in 
the system of violence which had so long 
prevailed in the world — the system of tor- 
menting criminals into what was called good 
order, and of never appealing to anything 
better than the base sentiment of fear. He 
had seen enough in his own experience to 
convince him that, degraded as they were, 
they had still hearts that could be touched 
by kindness, consciences that might be 
aroused by appeals to reason, and aspirations 
for a better course of life, which needed only 
the cheering voice of sympathy and hope, to 
be strengthened into permanent reformation." 

A new system of criminal treatment was, 
accordingly, in conformity with Mr. Ed- 
monds's recommendations, commenced at 
Sing Sing prison, and was soon attended by 
the happiest effects. The rule now was, to 
punish as sparingly as possible, and to en- 
courage where there was any desire for 
improvement. Many criminals, formerly 
regarded as irreclaimable, were thus restored 
to society as useful and profitable citizens, 
and but a very small proportion of these 



were found to relapse into their former habits. 
The system was found especially successful 
in the case of women. One of the matrons 
addressed them in the chapel on the duty of 
self-government, and the necessity of a 
reformation of character if they wished to 
escape from misery, either in this world or 
the next. "The effect of this little experi- 
ment," says the matron, in an after statement, 
"has been manifest in the more quiet and 
gentle movements of the prisoners, in their 
softened and subdued tones of voice, and in 
their ready and cheerful obedience. It has 
deepened my conviction that, however de- 
graded by sin, or hardened by outrage or 
wrong, while reason maintains its empire over 
the mind, there is no heart so callous or 
obdurate that the voice of sympathy and 
kindness may not reach it, or so debased as 
to give no responses to the tone of Christian 
love." 

Story of Captain Pillsbury. 

Captain Pillsbury, warden of Weathersfield 
prison, in Connecticut, was also remarkably 
successful in his treatment and reclamation 
of criminals by humane methods. He pos- 
sessed a moral courage which approached 
almost to the sublime. Previous to his 
appointment the usual harsh mode of treat- 
ment was enforced, with the usual hardening 
and debasing effects upon the prisoners, 
producing in them a " deep-rooted and 
settled malignity." Crime was increasing in 
enormity, and the prison was every year 
running the State into deeper debt. 

Captain Pillsbury completely altered the 
mode of treatment ; he directed his efforts 
to the reformation of the prisoners by means 
of kind treatment. He encouraged them in 
a course of good conduct; he cheered them 
on in their return to virtue. He at once 
liberated the worst convicts from the degrada- 



172 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 

His treatment of one of the prisoners was 
remarkable. The man was of herculean 
proportions, a prison-breaker, the terror of 



tion of irons, and told them he would trust 
them! The policy was magical in its effects. 
The men gave him their confidence; they 




manifested the greatest respect for his rule; 
order and regularity prevailed in the prison ; 
and the institution soon began to pay for 
itself b t' own labor. 



the country, and had plunged deeper and 
deeper into crime for seventeen years. Cap- 
tain Pillsbury told him when he came that 
he hoped he would not repeat the attempts 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



173 



at escape which he had made elsewhere. " I 
will make you as comfortable as I possibly 
can, and shall be anxious to be your friend ; 
and I hope you will not get me into any 
difficulty on your account. There is a cell 
intended for solitary confinement, but we 
never use it ; and I should be very sorry 
ever to turn the key upon anybody in it. 
You may range the place as freely as I do if 
you will trust me as I shall trust you." 

"You Treat Me Like a Man." 

The man was sulky, and for weeks showed 
only very gradual symptoms of softening 
under Captain Pillsbury's influence. At 
length information was given him that the 
man intended to break out of poison. The 
captain called him, and taxed him with it ; 
the man preserved a gloomy silence. He 
was told that it was now necessary that he 
should be locked up in the solitary cell. 
The captain, who was a small, slight man, 
went before, and the giant followed. When 
they had reached the narrowest part of the 
passage the governor turned round with his 
lamp, and looked in the criminal's face. 

" Now," said he, " I ask you whether you 
have treated me as I deserve? I have done 
everything I could think of to make you 
comfortable ; I have trusted you, and you 
have never given me the least confidence in 
return, and have even planned to get me into 
difficulty. Is this kind? And yet I cannot 
bear to lock you up, if I had the least sign 
that you cared for me." 

The man burst into tears. "Sir," said he, 
" I have been a very devil these seventeen 
years; but you treat me like a man." 

"Come, let us go back," said the captain. 
The convict had the free range of the prison 
as before. From this hour he began to open 
his heart to the captain, and cheerfully ful- 
iilled his whole term of imprisonment. 



confiding to his friend, as they arose, all 
impulses to violate his trust, and all facilities 
for doing so which he imagined he saw. 

Captain Pillsbury is the warden who, on 
being told that a desperate prisoner had 
sworn to murder him, speedily sent for him 
to shave him, allowing no one to be present. 
He eyed the man, pointed to the razor, and 
desired him to shave him. The prisoner's 
hand trembled, but he went through it very 
well. When he had done the captain said, 
" I have been told you meant to murder me, 
but I thought I might trust you." "God 
bless you, sir ! " replied the regenerated man. 
Such is the power of faith in man. 

Major Goodell, governor of the State 
Prison at Auburn, New York, and Mr. Isaac 
T. Hopper, another prison inspector, were 
equally successful in the treatment and re- 
clamation of criminals. Of fifty individuals 
whom this last-named admirable man suc- 
ceeded in reclaiming, only two relapsed into 
bad habits — a fact which speaks volumes in 
favor of the power of gentleness. 

A Kind Word. 

" Oh ! there has many a tear been shed. 

And many a heart been broken, 
For want of a gentle hand stretched forth. 

Or a word in kindness spoken. 
Then O ! with brotherly regard 

Greet every son of sorrow ; 
So from each tone of love his heart 

New hope, new strength, shall borrow." 

"Though I speak with the tongues of 
men and of angels, and have not charity, I 
am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling 
cymbal." 

Who is My Neighbor. 
Thy "neighbor? " It is he whom thou 

Hast power to aid or bless. 
Whose aching heart or burning brow 
Thy soothing hand may press. 

Thy ' ' neighbor? ' ' 'Tis the fainting poor, 
Whose eye with want is dim, 



k 



174 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 



Whom hunger sends from door to door, — 
Go thou and succor him. 

Thy ' ' neighbor? " 'Tis that weary man 

Whose years are at their brim, 
Bent low with sickness, care, and pain, — 

Go thou and comfort him. 

Thy ' ' neighbor ? " 'Tis the heart bereft 

Of every earthly gem, 
Widow and orphan helpless left, — 

Go thou and shelter them. 

Thy " neighbor? " Yonder toiling slave, 

Fettered in thought and limb. 
Whose hopes are all beyond the grave, — 

Go thou and ransom him. 

Where'er thou meet'st a human form 

Less favored than thy own, 
Remember, 'tis thy neighbor worm, 

Thy brother or thy son. 

Oh ! pass not, pass not heedless by ! 

Perhaps thou canst redeem 
The breaking heart from misery, — 

Go share thy lot Adth him. 

Randolph Bartholomay. 

A circumstance is mentioned by the natu- 
ralist Audubon, is occurring within his 
knowledge a few years ago, of a certain 
individual who for many years had led the 
life of a pirate. On one occasion, while 
cruising along the cost of Florida, he landed, 
and was lying in the shade on the bank of a 
creek, when his attention was arrested by the 
soft and mournful note of a Zenaida dove. 
As he listened, each repetition of the melan- 
choly sound seemed to him a voice of pity; 
it seemed to him like a voice from the past, 
a message from childhood's innocent and 
sunny hours ; then it appeared like a voice of 
deep, sad sorrow for him, the far-off wan- 
derer, the self-ruined, guilty prodigal; and 
so thoroughly did it rouse him from his long 
sleep of sin, that there, on that lonely spot, 
where no minister of mercy had ever stood, 
he resolved within himself to renounce his 



guilty life, return to virtuous society, and 
seek the mercy of God — a resolution which 
he subsequently fulfilled, as we are assured 
by the narrator. 

There is that in the human heart which 
responds to the voice of gentle, pitying love, 
when all other agencies have losf their 
power; when all the thunder and lightning 
of Sinai itself might roll and glitter in vain. 
Would that there were more, among those 
disposed to do good, who would make full 
proof of the omnipotence of the spirit of 
kindness, pity, and love. The Spirit of Jesus 
must be the model of our benevolence. 

"What Gentleness Can Do. 

Here is aiender story my eye fell on some 
time since. A little fellow, ten years old, 
was pulling a heavy cart, loaded with pieces 
of broken board and lath taken from some 
structure which had been pulled down. 
Such a sight is common enough in any of 
our large cities. He was evidently very 
tired. He wanted to rest himself beneath a 
shade-tree. The little fellow's feet were 
bruised and sore; his clothing was rags; 
his face was pinched and pale, and on it was 
falling that pathetic look of maturity and 
care you so often see shadowing the faces 
of children among the very poor. 

The poor boy lay down on the grass 
beneath the tree, and in five minutes he was 
fast asleep. His bare feet just touched the 
curbstone; his old hat fell from his head and 
rolled on to the sidewalk. And if you had 
looked into that upturned face you would 
have seen printed on it the marks of scanty 
food, of insufficient clothing, of a childhood 
untouched of love and sunshine, of strength 
too early strained in this sad battle of life. 

Then a curious thing took place. An old 
man, bowed and poor enough himself, and 
with a wood-saw on his arm, crossed the 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



175 



street for the shade of the same tree. He 
glanced at the boy, turned away, glanced 
again, seemed to read the pitiful writing on 
the boy's face and to interpret it from his 
own experience. Then he went softly on 
tip-toe, bent over the boy, took from his 
pocket his own scant dinner — a bit of bread 
and meat — and laid it down beside the lad, 
then walked quickly and quietly away, look- 
ing back every moment, but keeping himself 
out of sight, as though he would escape 
thanks. 

But other passers-by had noticed now the 
sleeping-boy, attracted by the kindly ma- 
noeuvering of the old man. He had said no 
word whatever. He had simply done his 
gentle deed and gone on. 

The Old Wood-Sawyer Did it All. 

But now a man walked down from his 
steps and left a half-dollar beside the poor 
man's bread and meat; a woman came and 
left a good hat in the place of the old one ; 
a child came with a pair of shoes, and a boy 
with a coat and vest. Others of the passing 
throng upon the street halted, whispered, 
dropped dimes and quarters besides the first 
piece of silver. 

Suddenly the little pinched-faced fellow 
awoke, startled, as if it were a crime to sleep 
there. He saw the bread, the clothing, the 
money, the score of people waiting with 
their kindly faces. He saw it was all tangi- 
ble and not a dream. Then he sat down, 
covered his thin face with his thin hands, 
and sobbed aloud. From the old wood- 
sawyer, with pocket empty of his dinner 
but with heart filled with beneficence, cer- 
tainly had gone forth a most controlling and 
loving might, compelling all these helpers 
of the waif of the city streets; while sleep, 
for a time, put its blessing on the pitiful 
young-old face. 



No Dearth of Kindness. 

There's no dearth of kindness 

In this world of ours ; 
Onlj' in our blindness 

We gather thorns for flowers ! 
Outward, we are spuming. 

Trampling one another ! 
While we are inly yearning 

At the name of ' ' Brother ! " 

There's no dearth of kindness 

Or love among mankind, 
But in darkling loneness 

Hooded hearts grow blind ! 
Full of kindness tingling, 

Soul is shut from soul. 
When they might be mingling 

In one kindred whole ! 

There's no dearth of kindness. 

Though it be unspoken, 
From the heart it sendeth 

Smiles of heaven, in token 
That there be none so lowly 

But have some angel- touch : 
Yet, nursing loves unholy, 

We live for self too much ! 

As the wild-rose bloweth, 

As runs the happy river, 
Kindness freely floweth 

In the heart forever ; 
But if men will hanker 

Ever for golden dust, 
Best of hearts will canker, 

Brightest spirits rust. 

There's no dearth of kindness 

In this world of ours ; 
Only ill our blindness 

We gather thorns for flowers. 
O cherish God's best giving. 

Falling from above ! 
Life were not worth living, 

Were it not for love. 

Gerai,d Massey. 

During one of our early American wars, 
a company of Delaware Indians attacked a 
small detachment of British troops, and 
defeated them. As the Indians had greatly 
the advantage of swiftness of foot, and were 
eager in the pursuit, very few of the fugi- 



L 



17« 



THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." 



tives escaped; and those who fell into the 
enemy's hands were treated with a cruelty 
of which there are not many examples even 
in this country. Two of the Indians came 
up with a young officer, and attacked him 
with great fury. As they were armed with 
tomahawks, he had no hope of escape, and 
thought only of selling his life as dearly as 
he could; but just at this crisis, another 
Indian came up, who seemed to be advanced 
in years, and was armed with a bow and 
arrows. 

The Old Indian With a Bow. 

The old man instantly drew his bow; but 
having taken aim at the officer, he suddenly 
dropped the point of his arrow, and inter- 
posed between him and his pursuers, who 
were about to cut him to pieces. They 
retired with respect. The old man then 
took the officer by the hand, soothed him 
into confidence by caresses; and having 
conducted him to his hut, treated him with 
a kindness which did honor to his profes- 
sions. He made him less a slave than a 
companion, taught him the language of the 
country, and instructed him in the rude arts 
that are practiced by the inhabitants. 

They lived together in the most cordial 
amity: and the young officer found nothing 
to regret, but that sometimes the old man 
fixed his eyes upon him, and having regarded 
him for some minutes with a steady and 
silent attention, burst into tears. In the 
meantime, the spring returned, and the 
Indians having recourse to their arms, again 
took the field. The old man, who was still 
vigorous, and well able to bear the fatigues 
of war, set out with them, and was accom- 
panied by his prisoner. They marched 
several hundred miles across the forest, and 
came at length to a plain where the British 
forces were encamped. 



The old man showed his prisoner the 
tents at a distance — at the same time re- 
marked his countenance with the most dili- 
gent attention : "There," said he, "are your 
countrymen ; there is the enemy who wait to 
give us battle. Remember that I have saved 
thy life, that I have taught thee to construct 
a canoe, and to arm thyself with a bow and 
arrow, to surprise the beaver in the forest, 
to wield the tomahawk, and to scalp the 
enemy. What wast thou when I first took 
thee to my hut? Thy hands were those of 
an infant; they were fit neither to procure 
thee sustenance nor safety. Thy soul was 
in utter darkness; thou wast ignorant of 
everything; and thou owest all things to 
me. Wilt thou then go over to thy nation, 
and take up the hatchet against us ? " 

The Captive Released. 

The officer replied, that he would rather 
lose his own life than take away that of his 
deliverer. The Indian then bending down 
his head, and covering his face with both 
his hands, stood some time silent; then 
looking earnestly at the prisoner, he said, 
in a voice that was at once softened by 
tenderness and grief, "Hast thou a father?" 
"My father," said the young man, "was 
alive when I left my country." 

"Alas," said the Indian, "how wretched 
he must be!" He paused a moment, and 
then added, " Dost thou know that I have 
been a father? — I am a father no more — I 
saw my son fall in battle — he fought by my 
side — I saw him expire; but he died like a 
man — he was covered with wounds when he 
fell dead at my feet — but I have revenged 
him." 

He prononnced these words with the 
utmost vehemence; his body shook with a 
universal tremor, and he was almost stifled 
with sighs that he would not suffer to escape 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



177 



him. There was a keen restlessness in his 
eye, but no tear would flow to his reHef. At 
length he became calm by degrees, and turn- 
ing towards the east, where the sun was 
then rising, "Dost thou see," said he to the 
young officer, "the beauty of that sky, which 
sparkles with prevailing day? and hast thou 
pleasure in the sight?" 

"Yes," replied the officer, "I have pleasure 
in the beauty of so fine a sky." "I have 
none," said the Indian; and his tears then 
found their way. A few minutes afterwards 
he showed the young man a magnolia in full 
bloom. "Dost thou see that beautiful tree? " 



said he, "and dost thou look upon it with 
pleasure?" "Yes," repHed the officer, "I 
do look with pleasure upon that beautiful 
tree." "I have pleasure in looking upon it 
no more," said the Indian hastily; and im- 
mediately added, "Go, return back, that thy 
father may still have pleasure when he sees 
the sun rise in the morning, and the trees 
blossom in the spring." 

What a power is that of love ! The world 
would be poor without it. Let love burn ; 
let it toil and weep. It is sunshine and 
beauty. It is the brightest glory of any 
life. 



DEEDS OF KINDNESS. 



Let some noble deed be, thine 

Before the day is ended ; 

Ere the sun doth cease to shine, 

Ere on thy bed thou dost recline, 

Go where the fevered brow doth pine, 

And see its wants attended, 

And learn that in its restless dream 

It craves the pure and limpid stream, 

And know that in its fitful madness 

It drains the cooling draught with gladness : 

And the parched lips will bless thee 

For the deed of kindness shown, 

While some other tongue will tell thee 

'Twas not done to one alone ; 

For an Eye that never sleepeth 

Beheld the action from his throne. 

Let some tearful eye be dried 

Before the day is ended ; 

Take the wanderer to thy side, 

But his sad folly ne'er deride ; 

A multitude of sins thou'lt hide. 

In some poor soul befriended, 

And learn that in his reckless race 

Ofttimes the pathway he will trace 

To some harsh words, unkindly spoken, 



And which his sobbing heart hath broken. 
Pour the balm of consolation ; 
While the listening ear is shown, 
Wound it not by ostentation ; 
Do thy Master's work alone, 
Remembering He ever keepeth 
A faithful record on his throne. 



Let some hungry child be fed 

Before the day is ended ; 

Go ! the orphan cries for bread. 

Where squallor reigns in all its dread, 

And where the widow's mournful tread 

Should with thy steps be blended, 

And see where vice and misery haunt, 

Where shrivelled babe and woman gaunt 

Are stretched on beds where filth is reeking, 

And tottering age with ruffians greeting ; 

Perhaps a word of thine may cheer 

Some sad heart whose hope had flown, 

And bid it cast aside its fear 

For a love before unknown. 

Seeking Him who ever meeteth 

A suppliant at Mercy's throne. 

Richard Penrose. 




I 



THE WELCOME RETURN. 



178 



CHAPTER X. 
LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 




SINGLE bitter word may disquiet 
an entire family for a whole 
day. One surly glance casts a 
gloom over the household, 
while a smile, like a gleam of 
sunshine, may light up the 
darkest and weariest hours. Like unex- 
pected flowers, which spring up along our 
path, full of freshness, fragrance and beauty, 
do kind words and gentle acts and sweet dis- 
positions, make glad the home where peace 
and blessing dwell. 

No matter how humble the abode, if it be 
thus garnished with grace and sweetened 
with kindness and smiles, the heart will turn 
lovingly toward it from all the tumult of the 
world, and it will be the dearest spot beneath 
the circuit of the sun. 

And the influences of home perpetuate 
themselves. The gentle grace of the mother 
lives in the daughter long after her head is 
pillowed in the dust of death ; and the 
fatherly kindness finds its echo in the nobility 
and courtesy of sons, who come to wear his 
mantle and to fill his place ; while, on the 
other hand, from an unhappy, misgoverned, 
and disordered home, go forth persons who 
shall make other homes miserable, and per- 
petuate the sourness and sadness, the conten- 
tions and strifes and railings which have made 
their own early lives so wretched and dis- 
torted. 

There are people who are snapping-turtles 
in the form of human beings. They are sour, 
morose, gloomy, always looking on the dark 
side. They give one the chills. 



Toward the cheerful home, the children 
gather "as clouds and as doves to their 
windows," while from the home which is the 
abode of discontent and strife and trouble, 
they fly forth as vultures to rend their prey. 

Be of Good Cheer. 

There never was a day so long 

It did not have an end ; 
There never was a man so poor 

He did not have a friend ; 
And when the long day finds an end 

It brings the time of rest, 
And he who has one steadfast friend 

Should count himself as blest. 

There never was a cloud that hid 

The sunlight all from sight ; 
There never was a life so sad 

It had not some delight. 
Perchance for us the sun at last 

May break the dark cloud througJi, 
And life may hold a happiness 

That never yet it knew. 

So let's not be discouraged, friend. 

When shadows cross our way. 
Of trust and hope I've some to lend ; 

So borrow from me, pray. 
Good friends are we, therefore not poor,. 

Though worldly wealth we lack ; 
Behold the sun shines forth at last, 

And drives the dark clouds back ! 

Eben E. Rexford. 

The class of men who disturb and distress 
the world, are not those born and nurtured 
amid the hallowed influences of Christian 
homes ; but rather those whose early life 
has been a scene of trouble and vexation — 
who started wrong and whose course is one 
of disaster and trouble. 

179 



180 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



God bless the cheerful person — man, 
woman or child, old or young, illiterate or 
educated, handsome or homely. Over and 
above every other social trait stands cheer- 
fulness. What the sun is to nature, what 
the stars are to night, what God is to the 
stricken heart which knows how to lean upon 
him, are cheerful persons in the house and 
by the wayside. Man recognizes the magic 
of a cheerful influence in woman more quickly 
and more willingly than the potency of 
dazzling genius, of commanding worth, or 
even of enslaving beauty. 

New Beauty Everywhere. 

If we are cheerful and contented, all nature 
smiles with us ; the air seems more balmy, 
the sky more clear, the ground has a brighter 
green, the trees have a richer foliage, the 
flowers a more fragrant smell, the birds sing 
more sweetly, and the sun, moon and stars 
all appear more beautiful. 

Cheerfulness ! How sweet in infancy, how 
lovely in youth, how saintly in age ! There 
are a few noble natures whose very presence 
carries sunshine with them wherever they 
go ; a sunshine which means pity for the 
poor, sympathy for the suffering, help for 
the unfortunate, and benignity toward all. 
How such a face enlivens every other face it 
meets, and carries into every company vivacity 
and joy and gladness ! 

But the scowl and frown, begotten in a 
selfish heart, and manifesting itself in daily, 
almost hourly fretfulness, complaining, fault- 
finding, angry criticisms, spiteful comments 
on the motives and actions of others, how 
they thin the cheek, shrivel the face, sour and 
sadden the countenance ! No joy in the 
heart, no nobility in the soul, no generosity 
in the nature ; the whole character as cold as 
an iceberg, as hard as Alpine rock, as arid 
as the wastes of Sahara ! 



Reader, which of these countenances are 
you cultivating? If you find yourself losing 
all your confidence in human nature, you are 
nearing an old age of vinegar, of wormwood 
and of gall ; and not a mourner will follow 
your solitary bier, not one tear-drop shall 
ever fall on your forgotten grave. 

Look at the bright side. Keep the sun- 
shine of a living faith in the heart. Do not 
let the shadow of discouragement and de- 
spondency fall on your path. However 
weary you may be, the promises of God will 
never cease to shine, like the stars at night, 
to cheer and strengthen. Learn to wait as 
well as labor. The best harvests are the 
longest in ripening. It is not pleasant to 
work in the earth plucking the ugly tares 
and weeds, but it is as necessary as sowing 
the seed. 

The Silver Lining. 

The harder the task, the more need of 
singing. A hopeful spirit will discern the 
silver lining of the darkest cloud, for back of 
all planning and doing, with its attendant 
discouragements and hindrances, shines the 
light of Divine promise and help. Ye are 
God's husbandmen. It is for you to be 
faithful. He gives the increase. 

Be cheerful, for it is the only happy life. 
The times may be hard, but it will make 
them no easier to wear a gloomy and sad 
countenance. It is the sunshine and not the 
cloud that makes the flower. There is always 
that before or around us which should fill 
the heart with warmth. The sky is blue 
ten times where it is black once. You have 
troubles, it may be. So have others. None 
are free from them. Perhaps it is as well 
that none should be. They give sinew and 
tone to life — ^fortitude and courage to man. 

That would be a dull sea, if always smooth, 
and the sailor would never get skill. 



182 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



Life was meant to be joyous and glad. It is 
the duty of every one to extract all the 
happiness and enjoyment he can without and 
within him, and, above all, he should look 
on the bright side of things. What though 
things do look a little dark ? The lane will 
turn, and the night will end in broad day. 
In the long run, the great balance rights 
itself. What is ill becomes well ; what is 
wrong becomes right. Men are not made to 
liang down either heads or lips ; and those 
Avho do, only show that they are departing 
from the paths of true common sense and 
right. 

There is more virtue in one sunbeam than 
a whole hemisphere of cloud and gloom. 
Therefore, we repeat, look on the bright side 
of things. Cultivate what is warm and genial 
— not the cold and repulsive, the dark and 
morose. Don't neglect your duty; live 
down prejudice. 

"Good Morning." 

We always know the cheerful man by his 
hearty "good morning." As well might 
fog, and cloud, and vapor hope to cling to 
the sun illumined landscape, as the blues and 
moroseness to remain in any countenance 
Avhen the cheerful one comes with a hearty 
"' good morning." Dear reader, don't forget 
to say it. Say it to your parents, your 
brothers and sisters, your schoolmates, your 
teachers — and say it cheerfully and with a 
smile ; it will do you good, and do your 
friends good. There's a kind of inspiration 
in every "good morning," heartily and 
smilingly spoken, that helps to make hope 
fresher and work lighter. It seems really to 
make the morning good, and a prophecy of 
a good day to come after it. 

And if this be true of the "good morning," 
it is also of all kind, cheerful greetings; 
they cheer the discouraged, rest the tired 



one, and somehow make the wheels of time 
run more smoothly. Be liberal then, and 
let no morning pass, however dark and 
gloomy it may be, that you do not help at 
least to brighten it by your smiles and cheer- 
ful words. 

The cheerful are the busy; when trouble 
knocks at your door or rings the bell, he 
will generally retire if you send him word 
"engaged." And a busy life cannot well be 
otherwise than cheerful. Frogs do not 
croak in running water. And active minds 
are seldom troubled with gloomy forebod- 
ings. They come up only from the stag- 
nant depths of a spirit unstirred by generous 
impulses or the blessed necessities of honest 
toil. 

"Where Heroines are Found. 

What shall we say by way of commending 
that sweet cheerfulness by which a good and 
sensible woman diffuses the oil of gladness 
in the proper sphere of home. The best 
specimens of heroism in the world were 
never gazetted. They play their role in 
common life, and their reward is not in the 
admiration of spectators, but in the deep joy 
of their own conscious thoughts. It is easy 
for a housewife to make arrangements for an 
occasional feast; but let me tell you what is 
greater and better : amid the weariness and 
cares of hfe; the troubles, real and imagi- 
nary, of a family; the many thoughts and 
toils which are requisite to make the family 
home of thrift, order and comfort; the 
varieties of temper and cross-lines of taste 
and inclination which are to be found in a 
large household — to maintain a heart full of 
good nature and a face always bright with 
cheerfulness, this is a perpetual festivity. We 
do not mean a mere superficial simper, which 
has no more character in it than the flow of 
a brook, but that exhaustless patience, and 



4 



LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 



183 



self-control, and kindness, and tact which 
spring from good sense and brave purposes. 
Neither is it the mere reflection of prosperity, 
for cheerfulness, then, is no virtue. Its best 
exhibition is in the dark back-ground of real 
adversity. Affairs assume a gloomy aspect, 
poverty is hovering about the door, sickness 
has already entered, days of hardship and 
nights of watching go slowly by, and now 
you see the triumph of which we speak. 

When the strong man has bowed himself, 
and his brow is knit and creased, you will 
see how the whole life of the household 
seems to hang on the frailer form, which, 
with solicitudes of her own, passing, it may 
be, under the terrible shadow of a great 
sorrow, has an eye and an ear for every one 
but herself, suggestive of expedients, hopeful 
in extremities, helpful in kind words and 
affectionate smiles, morning, noon and night, 
the medicine, the light, the heart of a whole 
household. 

Choosing the Honey. 

The industrious bee stops not to complain 
that there are so many poisonous flowers 
and thorny branches in his road, but buzzes 
on, selecting the honey where he can find it, 
and passing quietly by the places where it is 
not. There is enough in this world to com- 
plain about and find fault with, if men have 
the disposition. We often travel on a hard 
and uneven road, but with a cheerful spirit 
and a heart to praise God for his mercies, 
we may walk therein with great comfort and 
come to the end of our journey in peace. 

Let us try to be like the sunshiny member 
of the family, who has the inestimable art to 
make all duty seem pleasant, all self-denial 
and exertion easy and desirable, even disap- 
pointment not so blank and crushing; who 
is like a bracing, crisp, frosty atmosphere 
throughout the home, without a suspicion 



of the element that chills and pinches, or 
benumbs the heart. 

You have known people within whose in- 
fluence you felt cheerful, amiable and hope- 
ful, equal to anything! I do not know a 
more enviable gift than the energy to sway 
others to. good ; to diffuse around us an at- 
mosphere of cheerfulness, piety, truthfulness, 
generosity, magnanimity. It is not a matter 
of great talent; not entirely a matter of great 
energy; but rather of earnestness and hon- 
esty, and of that quiet, constant energy which 
is like soft rain gently penetrating the soil. 

The Colt in Harness. 

If any man has springs of cheerfulness and 
of good nature in him, in the name of the 
God of benevolence let him not stop them 
up. Let him rather keep them open, that 
they may be a source of joy and consolation 
to his fellow-men. I have sometimes heard 
it said of young men, that before they joined 
the Church they were good fellows, but that 
afterward there was nothing in them. It is 
because some men think that religion con- 
sists in tying up the natural faculties. Q^ 
the contrary, it consists in untying them, in 
giving them a wholesome development, "and ' 
so making them better. 

We do not put a colt into the harness for 
the sake of diminishing his power, but sim- 
ply for the sake of directing it; and we are 
putting the harness on men, not to take away 
their power, but to organize it for use, and to 
make it more facile. And in regard to good 
cheer, humor, buoyancy of disposition, hope- 
fulness — if a man has it naturally, it is^an 
inestimable gift; and religion should make it 
more — not less. 

Give us, O give us the man who sings at 
his work ! Be his occupation what it may, 
he is equal to any of those who follow the 
same pursuit in silent sullenness. He will 



184 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



do more in the same time — he will do it 
better — he will persevere longer. One is 
scarcely sensible of fatigue whilst he marches 
to music. The very stars are said to make 
harmony as they revolve in their spheres. 
Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, 
altogether past calculation its powers of 
endurance. Efforts, to be permanently use- 
ful, must be uniformly joyous — a spirit all 
sunshine — graceful from very gladness — 
beautiful because bright. 

Sunny People. 

There is many a rest in the road of life. 

If we only would stop to take it, 
And many a tone from the better land. 

If the querulous heart would wake it ! 
To the sunny soul that is full of hope. 

And whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth, 
The grass is green and the flowers are bright, 

Though the wintry storm prevaileth. 

Better to hope, though the clouds hang low, 

And to keep the eyes still lifted ; 
For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through, 

When the ominous clouds are rifted ! 
There was never a night without a day. 

Or an evening without a morning ; 
And the darkest hour, as the proverb goes, 

Is the hour before the dawning. 

There is many a gem in the path of life, 

Which we pass in our idle pleasure. 
That is richer far than the jeweled crown. 

Or the miser's hoarded treasure : 
It may be the love of a little child. 

Or a mother's praj^ers to Heaven ; 
Or only a beggar's grateful thanks 

For a cup of water given. 

Better to weave in the web of life 

A bright and golden filling, 
And do God's will with a ready heart 

And hands that are swift and willing, 
Than to snap the delicate, slender threads 

Of our curious lives asunder, 
And then blame Heaven for the tangled ends. 

And sit and grieve and wonder. 

If people will only notice, they will be 
amazed to find how much a really enjoyable 



evening owes to smiles. But few consider 
what an important symbol of fine intellect 
and fine feeling they are. Yet all smiles, 
after childhood, are things of education. 
Savages do not smile; coarse, brutal, cruel 
men may laugh, but they seldom smile. The 
affluence, the benediction, the radiance, which 

Fills the silence like a speech 

is the smile of a full appreciative heart. 

The face that grows finer as it listens, and 
then breaks into sunshine instead of words, 
has a subtle, charming influence, universally 
felt, though very seldom understood or ac- 
knowledged. Personal and sarcastic remarks 
show not only a bad heart and a bad head, 
but bad taste also. 

Now, society may tolerate a bad heart and 
a bad head, but it will not endure bad taste; 
and it is in just such points as this that the 
conventional laws which they have made, 
represent and enforce real obligations. There 
are many who would not cease from evil 
speaking because it is wrong, who yet 
restrain themselves because it is vulgar. 

Avoid Sarcasnl. 

Lord Bacon tells of a nobleman whom he 
knew — a man who gave lordly entertain- 
ments, but always suffered some sarcastic 
personality to "mar a good dinner," adding, 
"Discretion of speech is more than elo- 
quence; and to speak agreeably to him with 
whom we deal is more than to speak in good 
words; for he that hath a satirical vein, 
making others afraid of his wit, hath need 
to be afraid of another's memory." 

Some men move through life as a band of 
music moves down the street, flinging out 
pleasure on every side through the air to 
every one, far and near, that can listen. 
Some men fill the air "with their presence 
and sweetness, as orchards in October days 




A SONG TO CHEER. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



fill the air with the perfume of ripe fruit. 
Some women cling to their own houses, like 
the honeysuckle over the door, yet, like it, 
sweeten all the region with the subtle fra- 
grance of their goodness. There are trees 
of righteousness, which are ever dropping 
precious fruit around them. There are lives 
that shine like star-beams, or charm the 
heart like songs sung upon a holy day. 

How great a bounty and blessing it is to 
hold the royal gifts of the soul, so that they 
shall be music to some and fragrance to 
others, and life to all ! It would be no 
unworthy thing to live for, to make the 
power which we have within us the breath 
of other men's joy; to scatter sunshine where 
only clouds and shadows reign; to fill the 
atmosphere where earth's weary toilers must 
stand, with a brightness which they cannot 
create for themselves, and which they long 
for, enjoy and appreciate. 

Finding Good in Ever3rthing. 

It has been said that men succeed in life 
quite as much by their temper as by their 
talents. However this may be, it is certain 
that their happiness in life depends mainly 
upon their equanimity of disposition, their 
patience and forbearance, and their kindness 
and thoughtfulness for those about them. 
It is really true as Plato says, that in seek- 
ing the good of others we find our own. 

There are some natures so happily consti- 
tuted that they can find good in everything. 
There is no calamity so great but they can 
educe comfort or consolation from it — no sky 
so black but they can discover a gleam of sun- 
shine issuing through it from some quarter 
or another; and if the sun be not visible to 
their eyes, they at least comfort themselves 
with the thought that it is there, though 
veiled from them for some good and wise 
purpose. 



Such happy natures are to be envied. 
They have a beam in the eye — a beam of 
pleasure, gladness, religious cheerfulness, 
philosophy, call it what you will. Sunshine 
is about their hearts, and their mind gilds 
with its own hues all that it looks upon. 
When they have burdens to bear, they bear 
thern cheerfully — not repining, nor fretting, 
nor wasting their energies in useless lamenta- 
tion, but struggling onward manfully, gath- 
ering up such flowers as lie along their path. 

The Best People Always Cheerful. 

Let it not for a moment be supposed that 
men such as those we speak of are weak and 
unreflective. The largest and most compre- 
hensive natures are generally also the most 
cheerful, the most loving, the most hopeful, 
the most trustful. It is the wise man, of 
large vision, who is the quickest to discern 
the moral sunshine gleaming through the 
darkest cloud. In present evil, he sees 
prospective good; in pain, he recognizes the 
effort of nature to restore health; in trials, 
he finds correction and discipline; and in 
sorrow and suffering, he gathers courage, 
knowledge and the best practical wisdom. 

When Jeremy Taylor had lost all — when 
his house had been plundered, and his family 
driven out-of-doors, and all his worldly 
estate had been sequestrated — he could still 
write thus: "I am fallen into the hands of 
publicans and sequestrators, and they have 
taken all from me ; what now ? Let me look 
about me. They have left me the sun and 
moon, a loving wife, and many friends to pity 
me, and some to relieve me ; and I can still 
discourse, and, unless I list, they have not 
taken away my merry countenance and my 
cheerful spirit, and a good conscience, they 
have still left me the providence of God, and 
all the promises of the Gospel, and my 
religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my 



LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 



187 



charity to them, too ; and still I sleep and 
digest, I eat and drink, I read and meditate. 
And he that hath so many causes of joy, 
and so great, is very much in love with 
sorrow and peevishness, if he chooses to sit 
down upon his little handful of thorns." 

A Happy Disposition. 

Although cheerfulness of disposition is 
very much a matter of inborn temperament, 
it is also capable of being trained and culti- 
vated like any other habit. We may make 
the best of life, or we may make the worst of 
it ; and it depends very much upon ourselves 
whether we extract joy or misery from it. 

There are always two sides of life on which 
we can look, according as we choose — the 
bright side or the gloomy. We can bring 
the power of the will to bear in making the 
choice, and thus cultivate the habit of being 
happy or the reverse. We can encourage 
the disposition of looking at the brightest 
side of things, instead of the darkest. And 
while we see the cloud, let us not shut our 
eyes to the silver lining. 

The beam in the eye sheds brightness, 
beauty, and joy upon Hfe in all its phases. 
It shines upon coldness, and warms it ; upon 
suffering, and comforts it; upon ignorance 
and enlightens it ; upon sorrow, and cheers 
it. The beam in the eye gives lustre to 
intellect, and brightens beauty itself With- 
out it the sunshine of life is not felt, flowers 
bloom in vain, -the marvels of heaven and 
earth are not seen or acknowledged, and 
creation is but a dreary, lifeless, soulless 
blank. 

While cheerfulness of disposition is a great 
source of enjoyment in life, it is also a great 
safeguard of character. A devotional writer 
of the present day, in answer to the question, 
How are we to overcome temptations ? says ; 
" Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheerfulness 



is the second, and cheerfulness is the third." 
It furnishes the best soil for the growth of 
goodness and virtue. It gives brightness of 
heart and elasticity of spirit. It is the com- 
panion of charity, the nurse of patience, the 
mother of wisdom. It is also the best of 
moral and mental tonics. "The best cordial 
of all," said Dr. Marshall Hall to one of his 
patients, "is cheerfulness." And Solomon 
has said that "a merry heart doeth good like 
medicine." 

The Best Remedy. 

When Luther was once applied to for a 
remedy against melancholy, his advice was : 
" Gayety and courage — innocent gayety, and 
rational, honorable courage — are the best 
medicine for young men, and for old men 
too ; for all men against sad thoughts." 
Next to music, if not before it, Luther loved 
children and flowers. The great gnarled 
man had a heart as tender as a woman's. 

Cheerfulness is also an excellent wearing 
quality. It has been called the bright weather 
of the heart. It gives harmony of soul, and 
is a perpetual song without words. It is 
tantamount to repose. It enables nature to 
recruit its strength; whereas worry and dis- 
content debilitate it, involving constant wear- 
and-tear. 

How is it that we see such men as Lord 
Palmerston, Gladstone, and Senator John 
Sherman of Ohio, growing old in harness, 
working on vigorously to the end ? Mainly 
through equanimity of temper and habitual 
cheerfulness. They have educated them- 
selves in the habit of endurance, of not being 
easily provoked, of bearing and forbearing, 
of hearing harsh and even unjust things said 
of them without indulging in undue resent- 
ment, and avoiding worrying, petty, and 
self-tormenting cares. 

An intimate friend of Lord Palmerston, 



If^' 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



v-nc observed him closely for twenty years, 
has said that he never saw him angry, with 
pernaps one exception ; and that was when 
the Ministry responsible for the calamity in 
Afghanistan, of which he was one, were un- 
justly accused by their opponents of falsehood, 
perjury, and willful mutilation of public docu- 
ments. 

So far as can be learned from biography, 
men of the greatest genius have been for the 
most part cheerful, contented men — not eager 
for reputation, money, or power — but relish- 
ing life, and keenly susceptible of enjoyment, 
fs we find reflected in their works. 

Steering Right Onward. 

Such seem to have been Homer, Horace, 
Virgil, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Cervantes. 
Healthy, serene cheerfulness is apparent in 
their great creations. Among the same class 
of cheerful-minded men may also be men- 
tioned Luther, More, Bacon, Leonardo da 
Vinci, Raphael, and Michael Angelo. Per- 
haps they were happy because constantly 
occupied, and in the pleasantest of all work — 
that of creating out of the fulness and richness 
of their great minds. 

Milton, too, though a man of many trials 
and sufferings, must have been a man of 
great cheerfulness and elasticity of nature. 
Though overtaken by blindness, deserted by 
friends, and fallen upon evil days — "darkness 
before, and danger's voice behind" — yet did 
he not bate heart or hope, but " still bore up> 
and steered right onward." 

Dr. Johnson, through all his trials and 
sufferings and hard fights with fortune, was 
a courageous and cheerful natured man. He 
manfully made the best of life, and tried to 
be glad in it. Once, when a clergyman was 
com.plaining of the dulness of society in the 
country, saying "they only talk of runts" 
(young cows), Johnson felt flattered by the 



observation of Mrs. Thrale's mother, who 
said, " Sir, Dr. Johnson would learn to talk 
of runts" — meaning that he was a man who 
would make the most of his situation, what- 
ever it was. 

Johnson was of opinion that a man grew 
better as he grew older, and that his nature 
mellowed with age. This is certainly a 
much more cheerful view of human nature 
than that of Chesterfield, who saw life through 
the eyes of a cynic, and held that "the heart 
never grows better by age: it only grows 
harder." But both sayings may be true, 
according to the point from which life is 
viewed and the temper by which a man is 
governed ; for while the good, profiting by 
experience, and disciplining themselves by 
self-control, will grow better, the ill-condi- 
tioned, uninfluenced by experience, will only 
grow worse. 

The Man who can Laugh. 

Sir Walter Scott was a man full of the 
milk of human kindness. Everybody loved 
him. He was never five minutes in a room 
ere the little pets of the family, whether dumb 
or lisping, had found out his kindness for all 
their generation. 

Scott related to Captain Hall an incident 
of his boyhood which showed the tenderness 
of his nature. One day, a dog coming 
towards him, he took up a big stone, threw 
it, and hit the dog. The poor creature had 
strength enough left to crawl up to him an'd 
lick his feet, although he saw its leg was 
broken. The incident, he said, had given 
him the bitterest remorse in his after-life; 
but he added, "An early circumstance of that 
kind, properly reflected on, is calculated to 
have the best effect on one's character 
throughout life." 

"Give me an honest laugher," Scott would 
say; and he himself laughed the heart's 



LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 



189' 



laugh. He had a kind word for everybody, 
and his kindness acted all round him like a 
contagion, dispelling the reserve and awe 
which his great name was calculated to 
inspire. " He'll come here," said the keeper 
of the ruins of Melrose Abbey to Washing- 
ton Irving — "he'll come here sometimes wi' 
great folks in his company, and the first I'll 
know of it is hearing his voice calling out, 
'Johnny! Johnny Bower! ' And when I go 
out I'm sure to be greeted wi' a joke or a 
pleasant word. He'll stand and crack and 
laugh wi' me just like an auld wife; and to 
think that of a man that has such an awfu' 
knowledge o' history!" 

Dr. Arnold was a man of the same hearty 
cordiality of manner — full of human sym- 
pathy. There was not a particle of affectation 
or pretense of condescension about him. 
"I never knew such a humble man as the 
doctor," said the. parish clerk; " he comes 
and shakes us by the hand -as if he was one 
of us." "He used to come into my house," 
said an old woman, "and talk to me as if I 
were a lady." By the term "lady" she 
meant one of the "upper ten." 

An Example of Cheerfulness. 

Sydney Smith was another illustration of 
the power of cheerfulness. He was ever 
ready to look on the bright side of things ; 
the darkest cloud had to him its silver lining. 
Whether working as country curate or as 
parish rector, he was always kind, laborious, 
patient, and exemplary ; exhibiting in every 
sphere of life the spirit of a Christian, the 
kindness of a pastor, and the honor of a 
gentleman. In his leisure he employed his 
pen on the side of justice, freedom, education, 
toleration, emancipation ; and his writings, 
though full of common sense and bright 
humor, are never vulgar; nor did he ever 
pander to popularity or prejudice. 



His good spirits, thanks to his iiatuta.1 
vivacity and stamina of constitution, never 
forsook him ; and in his old age, when borne 
down by disease, he wrote to a friend: "'I 
have gout, asthma, and seven other maladie.s, 
but am otherwise very well." In one of the 
last letters he wrote, he said: "If you hear 
of sixteen or eighteen pounds of flesh want- 
ing an owner, they belong to me. I look -^.s 
if a curate had been taken out of me,' 

Blind, but not Gloomy. 

Great men of science have for the most 
part been patient, laborious, cheerful -minded 
men. Such were Galileo, Descartes, ^Newton, 
and Laplace. Euler, the mathematician, one 
of the greatest of natural philosophers, was 
a distinguished instance. Towards the close 
of his life he became completely blind; but 
he went on writing as cheerfully as beiore, 
supplying the want of sight by various inge- 
nious mechanical devices, and by the increased 
cultivation of his memory, which became 
exceedingly tenacious. His chief pleasure 
was in the society of his grandchildren, to 
whom he taught their little lessons m the 
intervals of his severer studies. 

One of the sorest trials of a man's temper 
and patience was that which befell Abauzit, 
the natural philosopher, while residing at 
Geneva — resembling in many respects a 
similar calamity which occurred to Newton, 
and which he bore with equal resignation. 
Among other things, Abauzit devoted much 
study to the barometer and its variations, 
with the object of deducing the general laws 
which regulated atmospheric pressure. Dur- 
ing twenty-seven years he made numerous 
observations daily, recording them or sheets 
prepared for the purpose. 

One day, when a new servant was mstalled 
in the house, she immediately proceeded to 
display her zeal by "putting things to rights." 



190 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



Abauzit's study, among other rooms, was 
made tidy and set in order. When he entered 
it, he asked of the servant, " What have you 
done with the paper that was round the 
barometer?" "Oh, sir," was the reply, "it 
was so dirty that I burnt it, and put in its 
place this paper, which you will see is quite 
new." Abauzit crossed his arms, and after 
some moments of internal struggle, he said, 
in a tone of calmness and resignation : " You 
have destroyed the results of twenty-seven 
years' labor; in future touch nothing what- 
ever in this room." 

Long-Lived Men. 

The study of natural history, more than 
that of any other branch of science, seems to 
be accompanied by unusual cheerfulness and 
equanimity of temper on the part of its 
votaries; the result of which is, that the life 
of naturalists is, on the whole, more pro- 
longed than that of any other class of men 
of science. A member of the Linnsean 
Society has informed us that, of fourteen 
members who died in 1870, two were over 
ninety, five were over eighty, and two were 
over seventy. The average age of all the 
members who died in that year was seventy- 
five. 

Adanson, the French botanist, was about 
seventy years old when the Revolution broke 
out, and amidst the shock he lost every- 
thing — his fortune, his places, and his gar- 
dens. But his patience, courage and resig- 
nation never forsook him. He became re- 
duced to the greatest straits, and even wanted 
food and clothing; yet his ardor of investi- 
gation remained the same. 

Once, when the Institute invited him, as 
being one of its oldest members, to assist at 
a seance, his answer was that he regretted he 
could not attend for want of shoes. " It was 
a touching sight," says Cuvier, "to see the 



poor old man, bent over the embers of a 
decaying fire, trying to trace characters with 
a feeble hand on the little bit of paper which 
he held, forgetting all the pains of life in 
some new idea in natural history, which 
came to him like some beneficent fairy to 
cheer him in his loneliness." 

The Government eventualy gave him a 
small pension, which Napoleon doubled; and 
at length easeful death came to his relief in 
his seventy-ninth year. A clause in his will, 
as to the manner of his funeral, illustrates 
the character of the man. He directed that 
a garland of flowers, provided by fifty-eight 
families whom he had established in life, 
should be the only decoration of his coffin — 
a slight but touching image of the more 
durable monument which he had erected for 
himself in his works. 

Always a Boy. 

Such are only a few instances of the 
cheerful work of great men, which might, 
indeed, be multiplied to any extent. All 
large, healthy natures are cheerful as well 
as hopeful. Their example is also contag- 
ious and diffusive, brightening and cheering 
all who come within reach of their influence. 
It was said of Sir John Malcolm, when he 
appeared in a saddened camp in India, that 
"it was like a gleam of sunlight; no man 
left him without a smile on his face. He 
was ' boy Malcolm ' still. It was impossible 
to resist the fascination of his genial pres- 
ence." 

And so it is that there are old young m_en, 
and young old men — some who are as joy- 
ous and cheerful as boys in their old age, 
and others who are as morose and cheerless 
as saddened old men while still in their boy- 
hood. 

The true basis of cheerfulness is love, hope 
and patience. Love evokes love, and begets. 




MERRY CHRISTMAS. 



191 



192 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



loving-kindness. Love cherishes hopeful and 
generous thoughts of others. It is charitable, 
gentle and truthful. It is a discerner of 
good. It turns to the brightest side of 
things, and its face is ever directed towards 
happiness. It sees " the glory in the grass, 
the sunshine on the flower." It encourages 
happy thoughts, and lives in an atmosphere 
of cheerfulness. It costs nothing, and yet is 
invaluable; for it blesses its possessor, and 
grows up in abundant happiness in the 
bosoms of others. Even its sorrows are 
linked with pleasures, and its very tears are 
sweet. 

Getting by Giving. 

Bentham lays it down as a principle, that 
a man becomes rich in his own stock of 
pleasures' in proportion to the amount he 
distributes to others. ' His kindness will 
evoke kindness, and his happiness be in- 
creased by his own benevolence. 

"Kind words," he says, "cost no more 
than unkind ones. Kind words produce 
kind actions, not only on the part of him to 
whom they are addressed, but on the part 
of him by whom they are employed; and 
this not incidentally only, but habitually, in 
virtue of the principle of association. It may, 
indeed, happen that the effort of beneficence 
may not benefit those for whom it was in- 
tended; but when wisely directed, it imist 
benefit the person from whom it emanates. 

"Good and friendly conduct may meet 
with an unworthy and ungrateful return ; 
but the absence of gratitude on the part of 
the receiver cannot destroy the self-approba- 
tion which recompenses the giver, and we 
may scatter the seeds of courtesy and kind- 
liness around us at so little expense. Some 
of them will inevitably fall on good ground, 
and grow up into benevolence in the minds 
of others; and all of them will bear fruit of 



happiness in the bosom whence they spring. 
Once blest are all the virtues always ; twice 
blest sometimes." 

A well-known author tells a story of a 
little girl, a great favorite with every one 
who knew her. Some one said to her, 
"Why does everybody love you so much?" 
She answered, " I think it is because I love 
everybody so much." This little story is 
capable of a very wide application; for our 
happiness as human beings, generally speak- 
ing, will be found to be very much in pro- 
portion to the number of things we love, and 
the number of things that love us. And the 
greatest worldly success, however honestly 
achieved, will contribute comparatively little 
to happiness unless it be accompanied by a 
lively benevolence towards every human 
being. 

Affording Pleasure to Others. 

Kindness is indeed a great power in the 
world. Leigh Hunt has truly said that 
"Power itself hath not one-half the might 
of gentleness." Men are always best gov- 
erned through their affections. " More wasps 
are caught by honey than by vinegar." 
"Every act of kindness," says Bentham, "is 
in fact an exercise of power, and a stock of 
friendship laid up; and why should not 
power exercise itself in the production of 
pleasure as of pain? " 

Kindness does not consist in gifts, but in 
gentleness and generosity of spirit. Men 
may give their money which comes from the 
purse, and withhold their kindness which 
comes from the heart. The kindness that 
displays itself in giving money does not 
amount to much, and often does quite as 
much harm as good; but the kindness of 
true sympathy, of thoughtful help, is never 
without beneficient results. 

The good temper that displays itself in 



I 



LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 



193 



■kindness must not be confounded with soft- 
ness or silliness. In its best form, it is not a 
merely passive but an active condition of 
being. It is not by any means indifferent, 
tut largely sympathetic. It does not charac- 
terize the lovv^est and most gelatinous forms 
of human life, but those that are the most 
highly organized. True kindness cherishes 
and actively promotes all reasonable instru- 
mentalities for doing practical good in its own 
time; and, looking into futurity, sees the 
same spirit working on for the eventual ele- 
vation and happiness of the race. 

It is the kindly-dispositioned men who are 
the active men of the world, while the selfish 
and the skeptical, who have no love but for 
themselves, are its idlers. Buffon used to say 
that he would give nothing for a young man 
who did not begin life with an enthusiasm of 
some sort. It showed that at least he had 
faith in something good, lofty, and generous, 
even if unattainable. 

Making a God of Self. 

Egotism, skepticism, and selfishness are 
always miserable companions in life, and they 
are especially unnatural in youth. The 
egotist is next door to a fanatic. Constantly 
occupied with self, he has no thought to 
spare for others. He refers to himself in all 
things, thinks of himself, and studies himself, 
until his own little self becomes his own 
little god. 

Worst of all are the grumblers and growlers 
at fortune — who find that "whatever is is 
wrong," and will do nothing to set matters 
right — who declare all to be barren, " from 
Dan even to Beersheba." These grumblers 
are invariably found the least efficient helpers 
in the school of life. The worst wheel of all 
is the one that creaks. 

There is such a thing as the cherishing of 
•discontent until the feeling becomes morbid. 



The jaundiced see everything about them 
yellow. The ill-conditioned think all things 
awry, and the whole world out of joint. All 
is vanity and vexation of spirit. Many full- 
grown people are morbidly unreasonable. 
There are those who may be said to "enjoy 
bad health; " they regard it as a sort of prop- 
erty. They can speak of "my headache," 
" my back-ache," and so forth, until, in course 
of time, it becomes their most cherished 
possession. But perhaps it is the source to 
them of much coveted sympathy, without 
which they might find themselves of compara- 
tively little importance in the world. 

Nursing our Troubles. 

We have to be on our guard against small 
troubles, which, by encouraging, we are apt 
to magnify into great ones. Indeed, the 
chief source of worry in the world is not real 
but imaginary evil — small vexations and 
trivial afiflictions. In the presence of a great 
sorrow, all petty troubles disappear ; but we 
are too ready to take some cherished misery 
to our bosom, and to pet it there. Very 
often it is the child of our fancy; and, for- 
getful of the many means of happiness which 
lie within our reach, we indulge this spoiled 
child of ours until it masters us. 

We shut the door against cheerfulness, and 
surround ourselves with gloom. The habit 
gives a coloring to our life. We grow queru- 
lous, moody, and unsympathetic. Our con- 
versation becomes full of regrets. We are 
harsh in our judgment of others. We are 
unsociable, and think everybody else is so. 
We make our breast a storehouse of pain, 
which we inflict upon ourselves as well as 
upon others. 

This disposition is encouraged by selfish- 
ness : indeed, it is, for the most part, selfish- 
ness unmingled, without any admixture of 
sympathy or consideration for the feelings of 



194 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



those about us. It is simply wilfulness in 
the wrong direction. It is willful, because it 
might be avoided. Let the necessitarians 
argue as they may, freedom of will and action 
is the possession of every man and woman. 
It is sometimes our glory, and very often it 
is our shame : all depends upon the manner 
in which it is used. 

We can choose to look at the bright side 
of things or at the dark. We can follow 
good and eschew evil thoughts. We can be 
wrong-headed and wrong-hearted, or the 
reverse, as we ourselves determine. The 
world will be to each one of us very much 
what we make it. The cheerful are its real 
possessors, for the world belongs to those 
who enjoy it. 

A Miserable Jester. 

It must, however, be admitted that there 
are cases beyond the reach of the moralist. 
Once, when a miserable-looking dyspeptic 
called upon a leading physician, and laid his 
case before him, "Oh!" said the doctor, 
"you only want a good hearty laugh: go 
and see Grimaldi!" "Alas!" said the mis- 
erable patient, "/am Grimaldi!" 

The restless, anxious, dissatisfied temper, 
that is ever ready to run and meet care half- 
way, is fatal to all happiness and peace of 
mind. How often do we see men and 
women encase themselves as if with chest- 
nut-burrs, so that one dare scarcely approach 
them without fear of being pricked! For 
want of a little occasional command over 
one's temper, an amount of misery is occa- 
sioned in society which is positively frightful. 
Thus enjoyment is turned into bitterness, 
and life becomes like a journey barefooted 
among thorns and briers and prickles. 

"Though sometimes small evils," says 
Richard Sharp, "like invisible insects, inflict 
great pain, and a single hair may stop a vast 



machine, yet the chief secret of comfort lies 
in not suffering trifles to vex us; and in 
prudently cultivating an undergrowth of 
small pleasures, since very few great ones^ 
alas ! are let on long leases." 

St. Francis de Sales treats the same topic 
from the Christian's point of view. "How 
carefully," he says, "we should cherish the. 
little virtues which spring up at the foot 
of the Cross ! " When the saint was asked, 
"What virtues do you mean?" he replied: 
"Humility, patience, meekness, benignity, 
bearing one another's burden, condescension, 
softness of heart, cheerfulness, cordiality, 
compassion, forgiving injuries, simplicity, 
candor — all, in short, of that sort of little 
virtues. They, like unobtrusive violets, love 
the shade; like them, are sustained by dew; 
and though, like them, they make little show, 
they shed a sweet odor on all around." 

Running to Meet Trials. 

Meeting evils by anticipation is not the 
way to overcome them. If we perpetually 
carry our burdens about with us, they will 
soon bear us down under their load. When 
evil comes, we must deal with it bravely and 
hopefully. What Perthes wrote to a young 
man, who seemed to him inclined to take 
trifles as well as sorrows too much to heart, 
was doubtless good advice: "Go forward 
with hope and confidence. This is the advice 
given thee by an old man, who has had a full 
share of the burden and heat of life's day. 
We must ever stand upright, happen what 
may, and for this end we must cheerfully 
resign ourselves to the varied influences of 
this many-colored life. 

"You may call this levity, and you are 
partly right — for flowers and colors are but 
trifles light as air — but such levity is a con- 
stituent portion of our human nature, without 
which it would sink under the weight of time. 



LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 



19& 



While on earth we must still play with earth, 
and with that which blooms and fades upon 
its breast. The consciousness of this mortal 
life being but the way to a higher goal by 
no means precludes our playing with it 
cheerfully; and, indeed, we must do so, 
otherwise our energy in action will entirely 
fail." 

Never Trouble Trouble. 

My good man is a clever man, 

Which no one will gainsay ; 
He lies awake to plot and plan 

'Gainst lions in the way, 
While I, without a thought of ill, 

Sleep sound enough for three ; 
For I never trouble trouble till 

Trouble troubles me. 

A holiday we never fix 

But he is sure 'twill rain, 
And when the sky is clear at six 

He knows it won't remain. 
He's always prophesying ill, 

To which I won't agree, 
For I never trouble trouble till 

Trouble troubles me. 

The wheat will never show a top — 
But soon how green the field ! 

We will not harvest half a crop- 
Yet have a famous j'ield ! 

It will not sell, it never will ! 
But I will wait and see, 

For I never trouble trouble till 
Trouble troubles me. 

He has a sort of second sight. 

And when the fit is strong, 
He sees beyond the good and right 

The evil and the wrong. 
Heaven's cup of joy he'll surely spill 

Unless I with him be. 
For I never trouble trouble till 

Trouble troubles me. 



Granted 'Wishes. 

Two little girls let loose from school 
Queried what each would be. 

One said " I'd be a queen and rule ; " 
And one "The world I'd see." 



The years went on. Again they met. 

And queried what had been : 
"A poor man's wife am I, and yet," 

Said one " I am a queen. 

' ' My realm a happy household is, 

My king a husband true ; 
I rule by loving services ; 

How has it been with you? " 
One answered ' ' still the great world lies 

Beyond me as it laid ; 
O'er love's and duty's boundaries 

My feet have never strayed. 

" Faint murmurs of the wide world come 

Unheeded to my ear ; 
My widowed mother's sick bedroom 

Sufficeth for my sphere." 
They clasped each other's hands ; with tears 

Of solemn joy they cried, 
" God gave the wish of our young years, 

And we are satisfied." 

J. G. Whittier. 

Let your cheerfulness be felt for good 
wherever you are, and let your smiles be 
scattered like sunbeams " on the just as well 
as on the unjust." Such a disposition will 
yield a rich reward, for its happy effects will 
come home to you and brighten your 
moments of thought. 

If your seat is hard to sit upon, stand up. 
If a rock rises up before you, roll it away, 
or climb over it. If you want money, earn 
it. It takes longer to skin an elephant than 
a mouse, but the skin is worth something. 
If you want confidence, prove yourself 
worthy of it. Do not be content with 
doing what another has done — surpass it. 
Deserve success, and it will come. 

The boy was not born a man. The sun 
does not rise like a rocket, or go down like 
a bullet fired from a gun ; slowly and surely 
it makes it round, and never tires. It is as 
easy to be a lead horse as a wheel horse. 
If the job be long, the pay will be greater; 
if the task be hard, the more competent you 
must be to do it. 




INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 



196 



CHAPT^KR XI. 
INDUSTRY. 




ENJAMIN Franklin says, "Sloth 
1, makes all things difficult, but 
industry all easy. He that 
riseth late must trot all day^ 
and shall scarcely overtake his 
business at night ; while laziness 
travels so slowly that poverty 
soon overtakes him." Franklin was a shin- 
ing illustration of industry overcoming 
poverty and a humble position. He rose by 
steady work and perseverance. In giving 
an account of his life he says, " I will describe 
my first entrance into Philadelphia, that you 
may be able to compare beginnings so little 
auspicious with the figure I have since made. 
" On my arrival I was in my working dress, 
my best clothes being to come by sea. I was 
covered with dirt; my pockets were filled 
with shirts and stockings ; I was unacquainted 
with a single soul in the place, and knew not 
where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with 
walking, rowing, and having passed the night 
without sleep, I was extremely hungry', and 
all my money consisted of a Dutch dollar 
and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which 
I gave to the boatmen for my passage. As 
I had assisted them in rowing, they refused 
it at first, but I insisted on their taking it. 
A man is sometimes more generous when he 
has little than when he has much money; 
probably because, in the first case, he is 
desirous of conceahng his poverty. 

"I walked towards the top of the street, 
looking eagerly on both sides, till I came to 
Market street, where I met with a child Avith 
a loaf of bread. Often had I made my dinner 



on dry bread. I inquired where he had 
bought it, and went straight to the baker's- 
shop, which he pointed out to me. I asked 
for some biscuits, expecting to find such as 
we had at Boston; but they made, it seems, 
none of that sort at Philadelphia. I then 
asked for a threepenny loaf They made no 
loaves of that price. 

"Finding myself ignorant of the prices as 
well as of the different kinds of bread, I de- 
sired him to let me have threepenny-worth 
of bread of some kind or other. He gave 
me three large rolls. I was surprised at 
receiving so much: I took them, however, 
and, having no room in my pockets, I walked 
on with a roll under each arm, eating a third. 
In this manner I went through Market street 
to Fourth street, and passed the house of 
Mr. Read, the father of my future wife. She 
w^s standing at the door, observed me, and 
thought, with reason, that I made a very 
singular and grotesque appearance. 

Poor but Generous. 

" I then turned the corner and went through 
Chestnut street, eating my roll all the way; 
and, having made this round, I found myself 
again on Market street wharf, near the boat 
in which I arrived. I stepped into it to take 
a draught of the river water; and, finding 
myself satisfied with my first roll, I gave the 
other two to a woman and her child, who 
had come down with us in the boat, and was 
waiting to continue her journey. 

" Thus refreshed, I regained the street.which 
was now full of well-dressed people, all going 

197 



198 



INDUSTRY. 



the same way. I joined them, and was thus 
led to a large Quaker meeting-house near 
the market-place. I sat down with the rest, 
and, after looking round me for some time, 
hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from 
my last night's labor and want of rest, I fell 
into a sound sleep. In this state I continued 
till the assembly dispersed, when one of the 
congregation had the goodness to wake me. 
This was consequently the first house I 
entered, or in which I slept, at Philadelphia." 

This was Franklin's first appearance in the 
city where his grave is now cherished as a 
sacred spot. He was poor and friendless yet, 
by perseverance and industry', he placed him- 
self at the tables of princes, and became a 
chief pillar in the councils of his country. 
The simple journeyman, eating his roll in the 
street, lived to become a philosopher and a 
statesman, and to command the respect of 
his country and of mankind. What a lesson 
for youth ! 

It has been said that no sword is too short 
for a brave man, for one step forward will 
make a short sword long enough. But few 
tasks are too difficult for one who is indus- 
trious and persevering. "Labor conquers 
all things." If the task is difficult, work a 
little harder. 

On the Delphian temple is the motto of 
Periander: "Nothing is impossible to in- 
dustry." 

If you have great talents, industry will 
improve them ; if moderate ability, industry 
-will supply their deficiency. Nothing is 
denied to well-directed labor ; nothing is ever 
to be attained without it. 

Benefit of Industry. 

Ho, all who labor, all who strive ! 

Ye wield a lofty power ; 
Do with your might, do with your strength, 

Fill every golden hour ! 
The glorious privilege to do 



Is man's most noble dower. 
O, to your birthright and yourselves. 

To your own souls be true ! 
A weary, wretched life is theirs 

Who have no work to do. 

C. F Orne. 

Incentives to Work. 

Toil, and be glad ! let Industry inspire 
Into your quickened limbs her buoyant breath I 

Who does not act is dead : absorbed entire 
In miry sloth, no pride, no joy he hath ; 
O leaden-hearted men, to be in love with death ! 

Ah ! what avail the largest gifts of Heaven, 
When drooping health and spirits go amiss ! 

How tasteless then whatever can be given ! 
Health is the vital principle of bliss. 

And exercise of health. In proof of this, 
Behold the wretch who slugs his life away. 

Soon swallowed in Disease's sad abyss, 
While he whom Toil has braced, or manly play, 
Has light as air each limb, each thought as clear as 
day. 

Work is the law of our being — the living 
principle that carries men and nations on- 
ward. The greater number of men have 
to work with their hands, as a matter of 
necessity, in order to live; but all must work 
in one way or another, if they would enjoy 
life as it ought to be enjoyed. 

Labor may be a burden and a chastise- 
ment, but it is also an honor and a glory. 
Without it nothing can be accomplished. 
All that is great in man comes through 
work, and civilization is its product. Were 
labor abolished, the race of Adam were at 
once stricken by moral death. 

It is idleness that is the curse of man — 
not labor. Idleness eats the heart out of 
men as of nations, and consumes them as 
rust does iron. When Alexander conquered 
the Persians, and had an opportunity of 
observing their manners, he remarked that 
they did not seem conscious that there could 
be anything more servile than a life of 
pleasure, or more princely than a life of toil. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



199 



A close observer of men and things told 
us the following little history, which we hope 
will plough very deeply into the attention of 
all who plough very shallow in their soils. 
Two brothers settled together in the same 
county; one of them on a cold, ugly, clay 
soil, covered with black-jack oak, not one 
■of which was large enough to make half a 
dozen rails. This man would never drive 
any but large, powerful Conastoga horses, 
some seventeen hands high. He always put 
three horses to a large plough, and plunged 
it in some ten inches deep. This deep 
ploughing he invariably practiced, and culti- 
vated thoroughly afterward. He raised his 
seventy bushels of corn to an acre. 

Land will not 'Work Itself. 

This man had a brother about six miles 
off, settled on a rich White River bottom- 
land farm; and while a black-jack clay soil 
yielded seventy bushels to an acre, this fine 
bottom-land would not average fifty. One 
brother was steadily growing rich on poor 
land, and the other steadily growing poor 
on rich land. One day the bottom-land 
brother came down to see the black-jack 
oak farmer, and they began to talk about 
their crops and farms, as farmers are very 
apt to do. 

"How is it," said the first, "that you 
manage on this poor soil to beat me in 
crops?" The reply was, ^^ I work tny land!' 
That was it exactly. Some men have such 
rich land that they won't work it; and they 
never get a step beyond where they began. 
They rely on the soil, not on labor, or skill, 
or care. Some men expect their lands to 
work, and some men expect to work their 
lands; that is just the difference between a 
good and a bad farmer. 

When we had written thus far, and read it 
to our informant, he said, "Three years ago 



I traveled again through that section, and 
the only good farm I saw was this very one 
of which you have just written. All the 
others were desolate — fences down, cabins 
abandoned, the settlers discouraged and 
moved off. I thought I saw the same 
stable door, hanging by one hinge, that used 
to disgust me ten years before; and I saw 
no change, except for the worse, in the 
whole county, with the single exception of 
this one farm." 

An Emperor's "Watch-Word. 

When the Emperor Severus lay on his 
death-bed at York, whither he had been 
borne on a litter from the foot of the Gram- 
pians, his final watch-word to his soldiers 
was, "we must work;" and nothing but 
constant toil maintained the power and ex- 
tended the authority of the Roman generals. 

In describing the earlier social condition 
of Italy, when the ordinary occupations of 
rural life were considered compatible with 
the highest civic dignity, Pliny speaks of the 
triumphant generals and their men returning 
contentedly to the plough. In those days 
the lands were tilled by the hands even of 
generals, the soil exulting beneath a plough- 
share crowned with laurels, and guided by a 
husbandman graced with triumphs. It was 
only after slaves became extensively em- 
ployed in all departments of industry that 
labor came to be regarded as dishonorable 
and servile. And so soon as indolence and 
luxury became the characteristics of the 
ruling classes of Rome, the downfall of the 
empire, sooner or later, was inevitable. 

There is, perhaps, no tendency of owi 
nature that has to be more carefully guarded 
against than indolence. An intelligent for- 
eigner who had travelled over the greater 
part of the world, was asked whether he had 
observed any one quality which, more than 



200 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



another, could be regarded as a universal 
characteristic of our species, his answer was, 
in broken English, "Me tink dat all men 
love lazy." It is characteristic of the savage 
as of the despot. It is natural to men to 
endeavor to enjoy the products of labor 
without its toils. 

Indolence is equally degrading to indi- 
viduals as to nations. Sloth never made its 
mark in the world, and never will. Sloth 
never climbed a hill, nor overcame a difficulty 
that it could avoid. Indolence always failed 
in life, and always will. It is in the nature 
of things that it should not succeed in any- 
thing. It is a burden, an incumbrance, and 
a nuisance — always useless, complaining, 
melancholy, and miserable. 

The Mother of Mischief. 

Burton, in his quaint and curious book — 
the only one, Johnson says, that ever took 
him out of bed two hours sooner than he 
wished to rise — describes the causes of Mel- 
ancholy as hinging mainly on idleness. 
"Idleness," he says, "is the bane of body 
and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief 
mother of all mischief, one of the seven 
deadly sins, the devil's cushion, his pillow 
and chief reposal. An idle dog will be 
mangy ; and how shall an idle person 
escape? Idleness of the mind is much worse 
than that of the body : wit, without employ- 
ment, is a disease — the rust of the soul, a 
plague, a hell itself As in a standing pool, 
worms and filthy creepers increase, so do evil 
and corrupt thoughts in an idle person ; the 
soul is contaminated. 

"Thus much I dare boldly say: he or she 
that is idle, be they of what condition they 
will, never so rich, so well allied, fortunate, 
happy — let them have all things in abund- 
ance and felicity that heart can wish and 
desire, all contentment — so long as he, or 



she, or they, are idle, they shall never be' 
pleased, never well in body or mind, but 
weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing 
still, weeping, sighing, grieving, suspecting^ 
offended with the world, with every object, 
wishing themselves gone or dead, or else 
carried away with some foolish phantasie or 
other." 

Either Grain or Thistles. 

Burton says a great deal more to the same 
effect ; the burden and lesson of his book 
being embodied in the pregnant sentence 
with which it winds up : " Only take this for 
a corollary and conclusion, as thou tenderest 
thine own welfare in this, and all other mel- 
ancholy, thy good health of body and mind, 
observe this short precept. Give not way to 
solitariness and idleness. Be not solitary — 
be not idle." 

The indolent, however, are not wholly 
indolent. Though the body may shirk labor,, 
the brain is not idle. If it do not grow corn,, 
it will grow thistles, which will be found 
springing up all along the idle man's course 
in life. The ghosts of indolence rise up in 
the dark, ever staring the recreant in the face, 
and tormenting him: 

" The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices,. 
Make instruments to scourge us. ' ' 

True happiness is never found in torpor of 
the faculties, but in their action and useful 
employment. It is indolence that exhausts,, 
not action, in which there is life, health and 
pleasure. The spirits may be exhausted and 
wearied by employment, but they are utterly 
wasted by idleness. Hence a wise physician 
was accustomed to regard occupation as one 
of his most valuable remedial measures. 

"Nothing is so injurious," said Dr. Mar- 
shall Hall, "as unoccupied time." An arch- 
bishop of Mayence used to say that "the 



INDUSTRY. 



201 



human heart is Hke a millstone: if you put 
wheat under it, it grinds the wheat into flour; 
if you put no wheat, it grinds on, but then 
'tis itself it wears away." 

Labor Song. 

Ah ! little they know of true happiness, they whom 
satiety fills, 

Who, flung on the rich breast of luxury, eat of the 
rankness that kills. 

Ah ! little they know of the blessedness toil-pur- 
chased slumber enjoys 

Who, stretched on the hard rack of indolence, taste 
of the sleep that destroys ; 

Nothing to hope for, or labor for; nothing to sigh 
for, or gain ; 

Nothing to light in its vividness, lightning-like, 
bosom and brain ; 

Nothing to break life's monotony, rippling it o'er 
with its breath ; — 

Nothing but dullness and lethargy, weariness, sor- 
row and death ! 

But blessed that child of humanity, happiest man 
among men, 

Who, with hammer or chisel or pencil, with rudder 
or ploughshare or pen, 

Laboreth ever and ever with hope through the 
morning of life, 

Winning home and its darling divinities — love-wor- 
shipped children and wife. 

Round swings the hammer of industry, quickly the 

sharp chisel rings, 
And the heart of the toiler has throbbings that stir 

not the bosom of kings — 
He the true ruler and conqueror, he the true king of 

his race. 
Who nerveth his arm for life's combat, and looks 

the strong world in the face. 

Dknis Florence MacCarthy. 

Indolence is usually full of excuses; and 
the sluggard, though unwilling to work, is 
often an active sophist. "There is a lion in 
the path;" or "The hill is hard to climb;" 
or "There is no use trying — I have tried, 
and failed, and cannot do it." 

To the sophistries of such an excuser, a 
friend once wrote to a young man: "My 



attack upon your indolence, loss of time, 
etc., was most serious, and I really think 
that it can be to nothing but your habitual 
want of exertion that can be ascribed your 
using such curious arguments as you do in 
your defense. Your theory is this: Every 
man does all the good that he can. If a 
particular individual does no good, it is a 
proof that he is incapable of doing it. That 
you don't write proves that you can't; and 
your want of inclination demonstrates your 
want of talents. What an admirable system! 
— and what beneficial effects would it be 
attended with if it were but universally re- 
ceived ! " 

Effort and Enjoyment. 

It has been truly said that to desire to pos- 
sess without being burdened with the trouble 
of acquiring is as much a sign of weakness, 
as to recognize that everything worth having 
is only to be got by paying its price is the 
prime secret of practical strength. Even 
leisure cannot be enjoyed unless it is won by 
effort. If it have not been earned by work, 
the price has not been paid for it. 

Life must needs be disgusting alike to the 
idle rich man as to the idle poor man, who 
has no work to do, or, having work, will not 
do it. The words found tatooed on the right 
arm of a sentimental beggar of forty, under- 
going his eighth imprisonment in the jail of 
Bourges in France, might be adopted as the 
motto of all idlers : "The past has deceived 
me; the present torments me; the future 
terrifies me." 

The duty of industry applies to all classes 
and conditions of society. All have their 
work to do in their respective conditions of 
life — the rich as well as the poor. No right- 
minded man can be satisfied with being fed, 
clad, and maintained by the labor of others, 
without making some suitable return to the 



202 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



society that upholds him. An honest, high- 
minded man would revolt at the idea of 
sitting down to and enjoying a feast, and then 
going away without paying his share of the 
reckoning. To be idle and useless is neither 
an honor nor a privilege ; and though per- 
sons of small natures may be content merely 
to consume — men of average endowment, of 
manly aspirations, and of honest purpose, will 
feel such a condition to be incompatible with 
real honor and true dignity. 

"I don't believe," says a close observer, 
*'that an unemployed man, however amiable 
and otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever 
can be, really happy. As work is our life, 
show me what you can do, and I will show 
you what you are. I have spoken of love of 
one's work as the best preventive of merely 
low and vicious tastes. I will go farther, and 
say that it is the best preservative against 
petty anxieties, and the annoyances that arise 
out of indulged self-love. 

Something you cannot Shirk. 

" Men have thought before now that they 
could take refuge from trouble and vexation 
by sheltering themselves, as it were, in a 
world of their own. The experiment has 
often been tried, and always with one result. 
You cannot escape from anxiety and labor — 
it is the destiny of humanity. Those who 
shirk from facing trouble find that trouble 
comes to them. The indolent may contrive 
that he shall have less than his share of the 
world's work to do, but nature, proportioning 
the instinct to the work, contrives that the 
little shall be much and hard to him. 

" The man who has only himself to please 
finds, sooner or later, and probably sooner 
than later, that he has got a very hard mas- 
ter; and the excessive weakness which 
shrinks from responsibility has its own 
punishment too, for where great interests 



are excluded little matters become great, 
and the same wear and tear of mind that 
might have been at least usefully and health- 
fully expended on the real business of life is 
often wasted in petty and imaginary vexa- 
tions, such as breed and multiply in the 
unoccupied brain." 

Even on the lowest ground — that of per- 
sonal enjoyment — constant useful occupation 
is necessary. He who labors not cannot 
enjoy the reward of labor, "We sleep 
sound," said Sir Walter Scott, "and our 
waking hours are happy, when they are 
employed; and a little sense of toil is 
necessary to the enjoyment of leisure, even 
when earned by study and sanctioned by 
tb'=' discharge of duty." 

"Work Hurts Nobody. 

It is true, there are men who die of over- 
work; but many more die of selfishness, 
indulgence and idleness. Where men break 
down by overwork, it is most commonly 
from want of duly ordering their lives, and 
neglect of the ordinary conditions of physical 
health. We doubt whether hard work, 
steadily and regularly carried on, ever yet 
hurt anybody. 

Then, again, length of years is no proper 
test of length oif' life. A man's life is to be 
measured by what he does in it, and what he 
feels in it. The more useful work the man 
does, and the more he thinks and feels, the 
more he really lives. The idle, useless man, 
no matter to what extent his life may be pro- 
longed, merely vegetates. 

The early teachers of Christianity ennobled 
the lot of toil by their example. " He that 
will not work," said the Apostle Paul, 
"neither shall he eat; " and he glorified him- 
self in that he had labored with his hands, 
and had not been chargeable to any man. 
When St. Boniface landed in Britain, he came 



INDUSTRY. 



203 



with a Gospel in one hand and a carpenter's 
rule in the other; and from England he 
afterwards passed over into Germany, carry- 
ing thither the art of building. Luther also, 
in the midst of a multitude of other employ- 
ments, worked diligently for a living, earning 
his bread by gardening, building, turning, 
and even clock-making. 

Writing to an abbot at Nuremberg, who 
had sent him a store of turning-tools, Luther 
said: "I have made considerable progress in 
clock-making, and I am very much delighted 
at it, for these drunken Saxons need to be 
constantly reminded of what the real time is : 
not that they themselves care much about 
it, for as long as their glasses are kept filled, 
they trouble themselves very little as to 
whether clocks, or clock-makers, or the time 
itself, go right." 

A Saying of Napoleon. 

It was characteristic of Napoleon, when 
-visiting a work of mechanical excellence, to 
pay great respect to the inventor, and, on 
taking his leave, to salute him with a low 
how. Once at St. Helena, when walking 
with a lady, some servants came along carry- 
ing a load. The lady, in an angry tone, 
ordered them out of the w^ay, on which Na- 
poleon interposed, saying, "Respect the 
burden, madam." Even the drudgery of the 
humblest laborer contributes towards the 
general well-being of society ; and it was a 
wise saying of a Chinese emperor that " if 
there was a man who did not work, or a 
woman that was idle, somebody must suffer 
cold or hunger in the empire." 

The habit of constant useful occupation is 
as essential for the happiness and well-being 
of woman as of man. Without it women are 
apt to sink into a state of listless languor and 
uselessness, accompanied by sick-headache 
and attacks of "nerves." 



Examples of Labor. 



Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been? 
"I've been sweeping the cobwebs out of the Sky ; 
I've been grinding a grist in the mill hard by; 
I've been laughing at work while others sigh ; 
Let those laugh who win ! ' ' 

Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing? 
"I'm urging the corn to fill out its cells ; 
I'm helping the lily to fashion its bells ; 
I'm swelling the torrent and brimming the wells ; 
Is that worth pursuing? " 

Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done ? 

" I've been watching the nest where my fledgelings 

lie; 
I've sung them to sleep with a lullaby ; 
By and by I shall teach them to fly, 
Up and away, every one ! ' ' 

Honey-bee, honey-bee, where are you going? 
" Tj fill my basket with precious pelf ; 
To coil for my neighbor as well as myself; 
To find out the sweetest flower that grows, 
Be it a thistle or be it a rose — 

A secret worth the knowing ! ' ' 

Each content with the work to be done, 

Ever the same from sun to sun : 

Shall you and I be taught to work 

By the bee and the bird, that scorn to shirk ? 

Wind and rain fulfilling His word ! 

Tell me, was ever a legend heard 

Where the wind, commanded to blow, deferred ; 

Or the rain, that was bidden to fall, demurred? 

Mary N. Prescott. 

Constant useful occupation is wholesome, 
not only for the body, but for the mind. 
While the slothful man drags himself indo- 
lently through life, and the better part of his 
nature sleeps a deep sleep, if not morally and 
spiritually dead, the energetic man is a source 
of activity and enjoyment to all who come 
within reach of his influence. Even any 
ordinary drudgery is better than idleness. 

Fuller says of Sir Francis Drake, who 
was early sent to sea, and kept close to his 
work by his master, that such " pains and 
patience in his youth knit the joints of his 



204 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



soul, and made them more solid and com- 
pact." Schiller used to say that he con- 
sidered it a great advantage to be employed 
in the discharge of some daily mechanical 
duty — some regular routine of work, that 
rendered steady application necessary. 

The Labor of Doing Nothing. 

Thousands can bear testimony to the 
truth of the saying of Greuze, the French 
painter, that work — employment, useful occu- 
pation — is one of the great secrets of happi- 
ness. Casaubon was once induced by the 
entreaties of his friends to take a few days' 
entire rest, but he returned to his work with 
the remark, that it was easier to bear illness 
doing something than doing nothing. 

When Charles Lamb was released for 
hfe from his daily drudgery of desk-work at 
the India Office, he felt himself the happiest 
of men. " I would not go back to my 
prison," he said to a friend, " ten years longer 
for ten thousand pounds." He also wrote 
in the same ecstatic mood to Bernard Barton : 
" I have scarce steadiness of head to compose 
a letter," he said; "lam free! free as air! 
I will live another fifty years. . . . Would 
I could sell you some of my leisure ! Posi- 
tively the best thing a man can do is — 
nothing; and next to that, perhaps, good 
works." 

Two years — two long and tedious years — 
passed; and Charles Lamb's feelings had 
undergone an entire change. He now dis- 
covered that official, even humdrum work — 
"the appointed round, the daily task" — had 
been good for him, though he knew it not. 
Time had formerly been his friend ; it had 
now become his enemy. 

To Bernard Barton he again wrote : "I 
assure you, no work is worse than overwork ; 
the mind preys on itself — the most unwhole- 
some of food. I have ceased to care for 



almost anything. Never did the waters of 
heaven pour down upon a forlorner head. 
What I can do, and overdo, is to walk. 
I am a sanguinary murderer of time." 

No man could be more sensible of the 
practical importance of industry than Sir 
Walter Scott, who was himself one of the 
most laborious and indefatigable of men. 
Indeed, Lockhart says of him that, taking 
all ages and countries together, the rare 
example of indefatigable energy, in union 
with serene self-possession of mind and 
manner, such as Scott's, must be sought for 
in the roll of great sovereigns or great 
captains, rather than in that of literary 
genius. 

You must Put in the Plow. 

Scott himself was most anxious to impress 
upon the minds of his own children the im- 
portance of industry as a means of usefulness 
and happiness in the world. To his son 
Charles, when at school, he wrote : " I can- 
not too much impress upon your mind that 
labor is the condition which God has imposed 
on us in every station of life ; there is nothing 
worth having that can be had without it, from 
the bread which the peasant wins with the 
sweat of his brow to the sports by which the 
rich man must get rid of his languor. As 
for knowledge, it can no more be planted in 
the human mind without labor than a field 
of wheat can be produced without the pre- 
vious use of the plough. 

" There is, indeed, this great difference,, 
that chance or circumstance may so cause it 
that another shall reap what the farmer sows ; 
but no man can be deprived, whether by 
accident or misfortune, of the fruits of his 
own studies ; and the liberal and extended 
acquisitions of knowledge which he makes 
are all for his own use. Labor, therefore, 
my dear boy, and improve the time. In 



I NDUSTRY. 



205 



youth our steps are light, and our minds are 
ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up ; but 
if we neglect our spring, our summers will 
be useless and contemptible, our harvest will 
be chaff, and the winter of our old age unre- 
spected and desolate." 

Southey was as laborious a worker as 
Scott. Indeed, work might almost be said 
to form part of his reHgion. He was only 
nineteen when he wrote these words : " Nine- 
teen years ! certainly a fourth part of my 
life ; perhaps how great a part ! and yet I 
have been of no service to society. The 
clown who scares crows for twopence a day 
is a more useful man ; he preserves the bread 
which I eat in idleness." 

And yet Southey had not been idle as a 
boy — on the contrary, he had been a most 
diligent student. He had not only read 
largely in English literature, but was well 
acquainted, through translations, with Tasso, 
Ariosto, Homer, and Ovid. He felt, how- 
ever, as if his life had been purposeless, and 
he determined to do something. He began, 
and from that time forward he pursued an 
unremitting career of literary labor down to 
the close of his life — " daily progressing in 
learning," to use his own words — "not so 
learned as he is poor, not so poor as proud, 
not so proud as happy." 

The Laborer. 

Stand up — erect ! Thou hast the form 
And likeness of thy God ! — who more ? 

A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm 

Of daily life, a heart as warm 
And pure as breast e'er wore. 

What then ? — Thou art as true a man 
As moves the human mass among ; 

As much a part of the great plan, 

That with creation's dawn began, 
As any of the throng. 

Who is thine enemy ? the high 
In station, or in wealth the chief? 



The great, who coldly pass thee by, 
With proud step and averted eye ? 
Nay ! nurse not such belief. 

If true unto thyself thou wast, 

What were the proud one's scorn to thee ? 
A feather which thou mightest cast 
Aside, as idly as the blast 

The light leaf from the tree. 

No : uncurbed passions, low desires. 

Absence of noble self-respect, 
Death, in the breast's consuming fires. 
To that high nature which aspires 

Forever, till thus checked. 

These are thine enemies — thy worst ; 

They chain thee to thy lowly lot : 
Thy labor and thy life accursed. 
Oh, stand erect ! and from them burst ! 

And longer suffer not '. 

Thou art thyself thine enemy ! 

The great ! — what better they than thou? 
As theirs, is not thy will as free? 
Has God with equal favors thee 

Neglected to endow ? 

True, wealth thou hast not — 'tis but dust ! 

Nor place — uncertain as the wind ! 
But that thou hast, which, with thy crust 
And water, may despise the lust 

Of both — a noble mind ! 

With this, and passions under ban. 
True faith, and holy trust in God, 

Thou art the peer of any man. 

Look up, then, that thy little span 
Of life may be well trod ! 

William D. Gai,i,agher. 

The maxims of men often reveal their 
character. That of Sir Walter Scott was, 
"Never to be doing nothing." Robertson, 
the historian, as early as his fifteenth year, 
adopted the maxim, " Life without learning 
is death." Voltaire's motto was, "Always at 
work." When Bossuet was at college, he 
was so distinguished by his ardor in study, 
that his fellow-students, playing upon his 
name, designated him as "The ox used to 
the plough." 



206 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



We have spoken of work as a discipline : 
it is also an educator of character. Even 
work that produces no results, because it is 
work, is better than torpor — inasmuch as it 
educates faculty, and is thus preparatory to 
successful work. The habit of working 
teaches method. It compels economy of 
time, and the disposition of it with judicious 
forethought. And when the art of packing 
life with useful occupations is once acquired 
by practice, every minute will be turned to 
account; and leisure, when it comes, will be 
enjoyed with all the greater zest. 

It is because application to business teaches 
method most effectually, that it is so useful 
as an educator of character. The highest 
working qualities are best trained by active 
and sympathetic contact with others in the 
affairs of daily life. It does not matter 
whether the business relate to the manage- 
ment of a household or of a nation. 

The Business W^oman. 

Indeed, the able housewife must necessarily 
be an efficient woman of business. She must 
regulate and control the details of her home, 
keep her expenditure within her means, 
arrange everything according to plan and 
system, and wisely manage and govern 
those subject to her rule. Efficient domes- 
tic management implies industry, application, 
method, moral discipline, forethought, pru- 
dence, practical ability, insight into character 
and power of organization — all of which are 
required in the efficient management of busi- 
ness of whatever sort. 

Business qualities have, indeed, a very 
large field of action. They mean aptitude 
for affairs, competency to deal successfully 
with the practical work of life — whether the 
spur of action lie in domestic management, 
in the conduct of a profession, in trade or 
commerce, in social organization, or in 



political government. And the training 
which gives efficiency in dealing with these 
various affairs is of all others the most useful 
in practical life. Moreover, it is the best 
discipline of character; for it involves the 
exercise of diligence, attention, self-denial, 
judgment, tact, knowledge of and sympathy 
with others. 

The Best Ability, 

Such a discipline is far more productive of 
happiness, as well as useful efficiency in life, 
than any amount of literary culture or medi- 
tative seclusion; for in the long run it will 
usually be found that practical ability carries 
it over intellect, and temper and habits over 
talent. It must, however, be added that this 
is a kind of culture that can only be acquired 
by diligent observation and carefully improved 
experience. "To be a good blacksmith," 
says a well-known author, " one must have 
forged all his life : to be a good administra- 
tor, one should have passed his whole life in 
the study and practice of business." 

The great commander leaves nothing to 
chance, but provides for every contingency. 
He condescends to apparently trivial details. 
Thus, when Wellington was at the head of 
his army in Spain, he directed the precise 
manner in which the soldiers were to cook 
their provisions. When in India, he specified 
the exact speed at which the bullocks were 
to be driven; every detail in equipment was 
carefully arranged beforehand. And thus 
not only was efficiency secured, but the 
devotion of his men, and their boundless 
confidence in his command. 

Washington, also, was an indefatigable 
man of business. From his boyhood he 
diligently trained himself in habits of appli- 
cation, of study, and of methodical work. 
His manuscript school-books, which are 
still preserved, show that, as early as the age 



INDUSTRY. 



207 



of thirteen, he occupied himself voluntarily 
in copying out such things as forms of 
receipts, notes of hand, bills of exchange, 
bonds, indentures, leases, land-warrants, and 
other dry documents, all written out with 
great care. And the habits which he thus 
early acquired were, in a great measure, the 
foundation of those admirable business quali- 
ties which he afterwards so successfully 
brought to bear in the affairs of govern- 
ment. 

The man or woman who achieves success 
in the management of any great affair of 
business is entitled to honor — it may be, to 
as much as the artist who paints a picture, 
or the author who writes a book, or the 
soldier who wins a battle. Their success 
may have been gained in the face of as great 
difficulties, and after as great struggles ; and 
while they have won their battle, it is at least 
a peaceful one, and there is no blood on their 
hands. 

The Men who Rule. 

Power belongs only to the workers ; the 
idlers are always powerless. It is the 
laborious and painstaking men who are the 
rulers of the world. There has not been a 
statesman of eminence but was a man of 
industry. " It is by toil,'' said even Louis 
XIV., " that kings govern." When Claren- 
don. described Hampden, he spoke of him as 
" of an industry and vigilance not to be tired 
out or wearied by the most laborious, and of 
parts not to be imposed on by the most 
subtle and sharp, and of a personal courage 
equal to his best parts." 

Indeed, this living principle of constant 
work, of abundant occupation, of practical 
contact with men in the affairs of life, has in 
all times been the best ripener of the ener- 
getic vitality of strong natures. Business 
habits, cultivated and disciplined, are found 



alike useful in every pursuit — whether in 
politics, literature, science, or art. Thus, 
a great deal of the best literary work has 
been done by men systematically trained in 
business pursuits. The same industry, 
application, economy of time and labor, 
which have rendered them useful in the one 
sphere of employment, have been found 
equally available in the other. 

The Dignity of Labor. 

Labor is life ! — 'Tis the still water faileth ; 

Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; 

Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ; 

Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. 
Labor is glorj' ! — the flying cloud lightens ; 
Onlj^ the waving wing changes and brightens ; 
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens : 

Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in 
tune ! 

Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, 
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, 
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us. 

Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill. 
Work — and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow ; 
Work — thou shalt ride over care's coming billow ; 
Lie not down wearied 'neath woe's weeping willow t 

Work with a stout heart and resolute will ! 

Labor is health ! — Lo ! the husbandman reaping. 
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping ! 
How his strong arm in its stalwart pride sweeping, 

True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides. 
Labor is wealth — in the sea the pearl groweth ; 
Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth ; 
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth ; 

Temple and statue the marble block hides. 

Droop not, though shame, sin and anguish are round 

thee; 
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee ! 
Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee : 

Rest not content in thy darkness— a clod ! 
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ; 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly : 
Labor ! — all labor is noble and holy ; 

Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God. 

Frances Sargent Osgood. 

Men of trained working faculty so con- 
tract the habit of labor that idleness becomes 



208 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



intolerable to them; and when driven by- 
circumstances from their own special line 
of occupation, they find refuge in other 
pursuits. The diligent man is quick to find 
employment for his leisure; and he is able 
to make leisure when the idle man finds 
none. Thus many great things have been 
done during such "vacant times of leisure," 
by men to whom industry had become a 
second nature, and who found it easier to 
work than to be idle. 

Respectable Hobbies. 

Even hobbies are useful as educators of 
the working faculty. Hobbies evoke in- 
dustry of a certain kind, and at least provide 
agreeable occupation. Not such hobbies as 
that of Domitian, who occupied himself in 
catching flies. The hobbies of the King of 
Macedon, who made lanterns, and of the 
King of France, who made locks, were of 
.1 more respectable order. Even a routine 
mechanical employment is felt to be a relief 
by minds acting under high pressure : it is 
an intermission of labor — a rest — a relaxa- 
tion, the pleasure consisting in the work 
itself rather than in the result. 

Genius may be brilliant, may shine as stars 
of the first magnitude do, but history points 
to the fact that men of the most commanding 
abilities have yet been the most persevering 
workers. Daniel Webster was a man of 
towering intellect, but never trusted to his 
superior powers. Labor was his strong right 
hand. One who knew him well said he did 
not doubt but others could have written and 
spoken as well if they had labored as hard 
and diligently. Most of his speeches were 
the result of long and laborious preparation, 
and he succeeded as much by honest toil as 
by his native gifts, although these were of 
the highest order. He was a great statesman 
because he was a great worker. 



The Coral-Insect. 

Toil on ! toil on ! ye ephemeral train. 

Who build in the tossing and treacherous main ; 

Toil on — for the wisdom of man ye mock, 

With your sand-based structures and domes of rock ; 

Your columns the fathomless fountains lave, 

And your arches spring up to the crested wave ; 

Ye're a puny race, thus to boldly rear 

A fabric so vast, in a realm so drear. 

Ye bind the deep with your secret zone. 

The ocean is sealed, and the surge a stone ; 

Fresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring, 

Like the terraced pride of Assyria's king ; 

The turf looks green where the breakers rolled ; 

O'er the whirlpool ripens the rind of gold ; 

The sea-snatched isle is the home of men, 

And the mountains exult where the wave hath been. 

But why do ye plant 'neath the billows dark 
The wrecking reef for the gallant bark ? 
There are snares enough on the tented field, 
'Mid the blossomed sweets that the valleys yield ; 
There are serpents to coil, ere the flowers are up ; 
There's a poison-drop in man's purest cup ; 
There are foes that watch for his cradle breath ; 
And why need you sow the floods with death ? 

With mouldering bones the deeps are white. 
From the ice-clad pole to the tropics bright ; 
The mermaid hath twisted her fingers cold 
With the mesh of the sea-boy's curls of gold, 
And the gods of ocean have frowned to see 
The mariner's bed in their halls of glee ; 
Hath earth no graves, that ye thus must spread 
The boundless sea for the thronging dead ? 

Ye build — ye build — but ye enter not in, 
Like the tribes whom the desert devoured in their sin ; 
From the land of promise ye fade and die, 
Ere its verdure gleams forth on your weary eye • 
As the kings of the cloud-crowned pyramid, 
Their noteless bones in oblivion hid, 
Ye slumber unmarked 'mid the desolate main, 
While the wonder and pride of your works remain. 
Lydia Huntley Sigourney. 

"A noble heart," says Barrow, " will dis- 
dain to subsist, like a drone, upon others' 
labors ; like a vermin, to filch its food out of 
the public granary ; or, like a shark, to prey 
upon the lesser fry; but it will rather outdo 
his private obligations to other men's care 



INDUSTRY. 



209 



and toil, by considerable service and benefi- 
cence to the public ; for there is no calling of 
any sort, from the sceptre to the spade, the 
management whereof, . with any good suc- 
cess, any credit, any satisfaction, doth not 
demand much work of the head, or of the 
hands, or of both." 

Labor is not only a necessity, but it is also 
a pleasure. What would otherwise be a 
curse, by the constitution of our physical 
system becomes a blessing. Our life is a 
conflict with nature in some respects, but it is 
also a co-operation with nature in others. 
The sun, the air, and the earth are con- 
stantly abstracting from us our vital forces. 
Hence we eat and drink for nourishment, and 
■clothe ourselves for warmth. 

"We Do not Work Alone. 

Nature works with us. She provides the 
earth which we furrow : she grows and 
ripens the seeds that we sow and gather. 
She furnishes, with the help of human labor, 
the wool that we spin and the food that we 
eat. And it ought never to be forgotten 
that, however rich or poor we may be, all 
that we eat, all that we are clothed with, all 
that shelters us, from the palace to the cot- 
tage, is the result of labor. 

Men co-operate with each other for the 
mutual sustenance of all. The husbandman 
tills the ground and provides food ; the 
manufacturer weaves tissues, which the tailor 
and a seamstress make into clothes ; the 
mason and the bricklayer build the houses 
in which we enjoy household Hfe. Numbers 
of workmen thus contribute and help to 
create the general result. 

Labor and skill applied to the vulgarest 
things invest them at once with precious 
value. Labor is indeed the life of humanity ; 
take it away, banish it, and the race of Adam 
Avere at once stricken with death. " He that 

14 



will not work," said St. Paul, "neither shall 
he eat;" and the justice of this judgment 
cannot be called in question. No one will 
resent it except the lazy do-nothings. 

There is a well-known story of an old 
farmer calling his three idle sons around him 
when on his death-bed, to impart to them 
an important secret. " My sons," said he, 
" a great treasure lies hid in the estate which 
I am about to leave to you." The old man 
gasped. " Where is it hid?" exclaimed the 
sons in a breath. "I am about to tell you," 
said the old man ; " you will have to dig for 
it — " But his breath failed him before he 
could impart the weighty secret, and he 
died. Forthwith the sons set to work with 
spade and mattock upon the long-neglected 
fields, and they turned up every sod and clod 
upon the estate. They discovered no treasure, 
but they learned to work ; and when the fields 
were sown, and the harvest came, lo! the 
yield was prodigious, in consequence of the 
thorough tillage which they had undergone. 
Then it was that they discovered the treasure 
concealed in the estate, of which their wise 
old father had advised them. 

Honor to the "Workers. 

Labor is at once a burden, a chastisement, 
an honor, and a pleasure. It may be identi- 
fied with poverty, but there is also glory in 
it. It bears witness, at the same time, to 
our natural wants and to our manifold needs. 
What were man, what were life, what were 
civilization, without labor ? All that is great 
in man comes of labor — greatness in art, in 
literature, in science. Knowledge — "the 
wing wherewith we fly to heaven " — is only 
acquired through labor. Genius is but a 
capability of laboring intensely : it is the 
power of making great and sustained efforts. 
Labor may be a chastisement, but it is indeed 
a glorious one. It is worship, duty, praise, 



210 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and immortality — for those who labor with 
the highest aims and for the purest purposes. 

Learn to Sweep. 

Once in a city's crowded street, 
With broom in hand an urchin stood ; 
No boots inclosed the little feet, 
Though winter chilled the infant blood; 
And }-et he worked, the little man, 
As only youthful heroes can. 
And as he toiled he cheerful sang : 
"The noblest oak was once a seed, 
The choicest flower was but a weed, 
Unpinioned once the eaglet's wing. 
The river but a trickling spring, 
The swiftest foot must learn to creep, 
The proudest man must learn to sweep." 

Anon some passing idlers sought 
The sweeper from his toil to shame, 
To scorn the noble worker's thought, 
And quench the young aspiring flame ; 
No answer gave the hero back. 
But to and fro he whisked the broom, 
And shouted as he cleared the track, 
" The noblest oak was once a seed. 
The choicest flower was but a weed, 
Unpinioned once the eaglet's wing. 
The river but a trickling spring, 
The swiftest foot must learn to creep. 
The proudest man must learn to sweep." 

H. S. Brooks. 

There are many who murmur and com- 
plain at the law of labor under which we 
live, without reflecting that obedience to it is 
not only in conformity with the Divine will, 
but also necessary for the development of 
intelligence, 3,nd for the thorough enjoyment 
of our common nature. Of all wretched 
men, surely the idle are the most so — those 
whose life is barren of utility, who have 
nothing to do except to gratify their senses. 
Are not such men the most querulous, 
miserable and dissatisfied of all, constantly 
in a state of languor, alike useless to them- 
selves and to others — mere cumberers of the 
earth, who, when removed, are missed by 
none, and whom none regret? Most wretched 



and ignoble lot, indeed, is the lot of the 
idlers. 

Who have helped the world onward so 
much as the workers; men who have had 
to work from necessity or from choice? All 
that we call progress — civilization, well-being 
and prosperity — depends upon industry, dili- 
gently applied — from the culture of a barley- 
stalk to the construction of a steamship; 
from the stitching of a collar to the sculptur- 
ing of "the statue that enchants the world." 

Repeated Efforts. 

AH useful and beautiful thoughts, in like 
manner, are the issue of labor, of study, of 
observation, of research, of diligent elabora- 
tion. The noblest poem cannot be elabo- 
rated, and send down its undying strains 
into the future, without .steady and painstak- 
ing labor. No great work has ever been 
done "at a heat." It is the result of re- 
peated efforts, and often of many failures. 
One generation begins, and another continues 
— the present coperating with the past. Thus, 
the Parthenon began with a mud-hut; the 
"Last Judgment" with a few scratches on 
the sand. It is the same with individuals of 
the race: they begin with abortive eflbrts, 
which, by means of perseverance, lead to 
successful issues. 

The history of industry is uniform in the 
character of its illustrations. Industry en- 
ables the poorest man to achieve honor, if 
not distinction. The greatest names in the 
history of art, literature and science are those 
of laboring men. A working instrument- 
maker gave us the steam-engine; a barber, 
the spinning-machine; a weaver, the mule; 
a pitman perfected the locomotive; and 
working-men of all grades have, one after 
another, added to the triumphs of mechanical 
skill. 

By the working-man we do not mean 



I 



INDUSTRY. 



211 



merely the man who labors with his muscles 
and sinews. A horse can do this. But he 
is pre-eminently the working-man who works 
with his brain also, and whose whole physical 
system is under the influence of his higher 
faculties. The man who paints a picture, 
who writes a book, who makes a law, who 



creates a poem, is a working-man of the 
highest order ; not so necessary to the 
physical sustainment of the community as 
the plowman or the shepherd, but not less 
important as providing for society its highest 
intellectual nourishment and leading it on- 
ward and upward. 



YOUR MISSION. 



I 



If you cannot on the ocean 

Sail among the swiftest fleet, 
Rocking on the highest billows, 

Laughing at the storms you meet, 
You can stand among the sailors, 

Anchored yet within the bay, 
You can lend a hand to help them, 

As they launch their boats away. 

If you are too weak to journey, 

Up the mountain steep and high, 
You can stand within the valley, 

While the multitudes go by. 
You can chant in happy measure. 

As they slowly pass along ; 
Though they may forget the singer, 

They will not forget the song. 

If you have not gold and silver 

Ever ready to command. 
If you cannot towards the needy 

Reach an ever open hand, 



You can visit the afflicted, 
O'er the erring you can weep, 

You can be a true disciple, 
Sitting at the Saviour's feet. 

If you cannot in the conflict, 

Prove yourself a soldier true. 
If where fire and smoke are thickest. 

There's no work for you to do, 
When the battle-field is silent. 

You can go with careful tread. 
You can bear away the wounded, 

You can cover up the dead. 

Do not then stand idly waiting 

For some greater work to do. 
Fortune is a lazy goddess, 

She will never come to you. 
Go and toil in any vineyard, 

Do not fear to do or dare. 
If j'ou want a field of labor, 

You can find it anywhere. 




Ot^. 



... . 




212 



CHAPTER XII. 



HONESTY. 




N honest man's the noblest 
work of God:" so says 
Alexander Pope. " Honesty 
is the best poHcy :" so says 
Ben Franklin. " If a man 
really thinks that there is no 
distinction between virtue and vice, when he 
leaves our houses let us count our spoons :" 
so says Ben Johnson. " Make yourself an 
honest man, and then you may be sure there 
is one less rascal in the world : " so says 
Thomas Carlyle. 

Every Egyptian was required by law 
annually to declare by what means he main- 
tained himself, and if he omitted to do so or 
gave no satisfactory account of his way of 
living, he was punishable with death. This 
law Solon brought from Egypt to Athens, 
where it was inviolably observed as a most 
equitable regulation. If this law were en- 
acted in our own country a good many would 
pack up and emigrate. 

A gentleman jumping from an omnibus in 
the city of New York, dropped his pocket- 
book, and had gone some distance before he 
discovered his loss ; then hastily returning, 
inquired of eveiy passenger whom he met, if 
a pocket-book had been seen. 

Finally, meeting a little girl ten years old, 
to whom he made the same inquiry, she 
asked: "What kind of a pocket-book?" 
He described it — then unfolding her apron : 
"Is this it?" "Yes, that is mine; come 
into this store with me." They entered, he 
opened the book, counted the notes, and 
examined the papers. "They are all right," 



said he ; " fifteen notes of a thousand dollars 
each. Had they fallen into other hands, 
I might never have seen them again. Take, 
then, my little girl, this note of a thousand 
dollars, as a reward for your honesty, and a 
lesson to me to be more careful in future." 

"No," said the girl, "I cannot take it. 
I have been taught at Sunday school not to 
keep what is not mine, and my parents would 
not be pleased if I took the note home ; they 
might suppose I had stolen it." "Well„ 
then, my girl, show me where your parents 
live." 

A Bountiful Gift. 

The girl took him to a humble tenement 
in an obscure street, rude but cleanly. He 
informed the parents of the case. They told 
him their child had acted correctly. They 
were poor, it was true, but their pastor had 
always told them not to set their hearts on 
rich gifts. The gentleman told them they 
must take it, and he was convinced they 
would make a good use of it, from the princi- 
ple they had professed. 

The pious parents then blessed their bene- 
factor, for such he proved. They paid theij 
debts, which had disturbed their peace, and 
the benevolent giver furnished the husband 
and father employment in his occupation as 
a carpenter, enabling him to rear an indus 
trious family in comparative happiness. This 
little girl became the wife of a respectable 
tradesman of New York, and had reason to 
rejoice that she was taught aright in early 
life and practiced what she learned. 

213 



214 



HONESTY. 



A nobleman traveling in Scotland, a few 
years ago, was asked for alms in the high 
street of Edinburgh by a little ragged boy. 
He said he had no change ; upon which the 
iboy offered to procure it. His lordship, in 
■order to get rid of his importunity, gave him 
a piece of silver, which the boy conceiving 
was to be changed, ran off for the purpose. 
On his return, not finding his benefactor, 
whom he expected to wait, he watched for 
several days in the place where he had 
received the money. At length the noble- 
man happened again to pass that way. The 
boy accosted him, and put the change he 
had procured into his hand, counting it with 
great exactness. His lordship was so pleased 
with the boy's honesty that he placed him at 
school, with the assurance of providing for 
him. 

Taken at his Word. 

A young man had volunteered, and was 
expecting daily to be ordered to the seat of 
war. . One day his mother gave him an 
unpaid bill with money, and asked him to 
pay it. When he returned home at night 
she said : " Did you pay that bill ? " " Yes," 
>he answered. In a few days the bill was 
■sent in a second time. "I thought," she 
;said to her son, "that you paid this." " I 
(really don't remember, mother ; you know 
I've had so many things on my mind." 
"But you said you did." "Well," he 
answered, " if I said I did, I did." 

He went away, and his mother took the 
bill herself to the shop. The young man 
had been in the town all his life, and what 
opinion v/as held of him this will show. "I 
am quite sure," she said, "that my son paid 
this some days ago. He has been very busy 
since, and has quite forgotten about it ; but 
he told me that day he had, and says if he 
said then that he had, he is quite sure he 



did." "Well," said the man, "I forget about 
it; but if he ever said he did, he did." 
Wasn't that a grand character to have? 

An Honest Man. 

Trust payeth homage unto truth, rewarding honesty 

of action ; 
And all men love to lean on him, who never failed 

nor fainted. 
Freedom gloweth in his eyes, and nobleness of nature 

at his heart, 
And Independence took a crown and fixed it on his 

head; 
So he stood in his integrity, just and firm of pur- 
pose. 
Aiding many, fearing none, a spectacle to angels and 

to men ; 
Yea, when the shattered globe shall rock in the 

throes of dissolution, 
Still will he stand in his integrity, sublime — an 

honest man. 

M. F. TUPPER. 

The first step toward greatness is to be 
honest, says the proverb ; but the proverb 
fails to state the case strong enough. Hon- 
esty is not only the first step toward great- 
ness — it is greatness itself. 

It is with honesty in one particular as 
with wealth ; those that have the thing care 
less about the credit of it than those that 
have it not. What passes as open-faced 
honesty is often masked malignity. He 
who says there is no such thing as an honest 
man, you may be sure, is himself a knave. 
When any one complains, as Diogenes did, 
that he has to hunt the street with candles at 
noon-day to find an honest man, we are apt 
to think that his nearest neighbor would 
have quite as much difficulty as himself in 
making the discovery. If you think there 
isn't an honest man living, you had better, 
for appearance sake, put off saying it until 
you are dead yourself. 

Honesty is the best policy, but those who 
do honest things merely because they think 
it good policy, are not honest. No man has 



I 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



215 



ever been too honest. Cicero believed that 
nothing is useful that is not honest. He 
that walketh uprightly, Vi^alketh surely ; but 
he that perverteth his ways shall be known. 
There is an alchemy in a high heart which 
transmutes other things to its own quality. 

The truth of the good old maxim, that 
" Honesty is the best policy," is upheld by 
the daily experience of life ; uprightness and 
integrity being found as successful in busi- 
ness as in everything else. As Hugh Mil- 
ler's worthy uncle used to advise him, " In 
all your dealings with your neighbor treat 
him generously — ' good measure, heaped up, 
and running over ' — and you will not lose 
by it in the end." 

The Road to Fortune. 

Honesty is the best policy. But no man 
can be upright, amid the various temptations 
of life, unless he is honest for the right's 
sake. You should not be honest from the 
low motive of policy, but because you feel 
the better for being honest. The latter will 
hold you fast, let the element set as it will, 
let storms blow ever so fiercely ; the former 
is but a cable of pack-thread, which will 
snap apart. In the long run, character is 
better than capital. 

kMost of the great American merchants, 
whose revenues outrank those of princes, 
owe their colossal fortunes principally to a 
character for integrity and ability. Lay the 
foundations of a character broad and deep. 
Build them on a rock, and not on sand. 
The rains may then descend, the floods rise 
and the winds blow, but your house will 
stand. But, establish a character for loose 
dealings, and lo ! some great tempest will 
sweep it away. 

The religious tradesman complains that 
his honesty is a hindrance to his success ; 
that the tide of custom pours into the doors 



of his less scrupulous neighbors in the same 
street, while he himself waits for hours idle. 
Do you think that God is going to reward 
honor, integrity and highmindedness with 
this world's coin? Do you fancy that he 
will pay spiritual excellence with plenty of 
custom ? 

Now consider the price that man has paid 
for his success. Perhaps mental degradation 
and inward dishonor. His advertisements 
are all deceptive , his treatment of his work- 
men tyranical ; his cheap prices made pos- 
sible by inferior articles. Sow that man's 
seed, and you will reap that man's harvest. 
Cheat, lie, advertise, be unscrupulous in your 
assertions, custom will come to you ; but if 
the price is too dear, let him have his har- 
vest, and take yours. Yours is a clear con- 
science, a pure mind, rectitude within and 
without. Will you part with that for his ? 
Then why do you complain ? He has paid 
his price ; you do not choose to pay it. 

The Ship will go to Pieces. 

Some, in their passion for sudden accumu- 
lation, practice secret frauds, and imagine 
there is no harm in it, so they be not de- 
tected. But in vain will they cover up their 
transgressions; for God sees it to the bot- 
tom; and let them not hope to keep it always 
from man. The birds of the air sometimes 
carry the tale abroad. In the long web of 
events, " Be sure your sin will find you out." 

He who is carrying on a course of latent 
corruption and dishonesty, be he president 
of some mammoth corporation, or engaged 
only in private transactions, is sailing in a 
ship Hke that fabled one of old, which ever 
comes nearer and nearer to a magnetic moun- 
tain, that will at last draw every nail out of 
it. All faith in God, and all trust in man, 
will eventually be lost, and he will get no re- 
ward for his guilt. The very winds will sigh 



216 



HONESTY. 



forth his iniquity; and "a beam will come 
out of the wall," and convict and smite him. 

Strict honesty is the crown of one's early 
days. " Your son will not do for me," was 
once said to a friend of mine ; "he took 
pains, the other day, to tell a customer of 
a small blemish in a piece of goods." The 
salesboy is sometimes virtually taught to 
declare that goods cost such or such a sum ; 
that they are strong, fashionable, perfect, 
when the whole story is false. So is the 
bloom of a God-inspired truthfulness not 
seldom brushed from the cheek of our 
simple-hearted children. 

We hope and trust these cases are rare 
but even one such house as we allude to 
may ruin the integrity and the fair fame of 
many a lad. God grant our young men to 
feel that " an honest man is the noblest work 
of God," and, under all temptations, to live 
as they feel. 

Cannot Stand the Trial. 

The possession of the principle of honesty 
is a matter known most intimately to the 
man and his God, and fully only to the 
latter. No man knows the extent and 
strength of his own honesty until he has 
passed the fiery ordeal of temptation. 

Men who shudder at the dishonesty of 
others, at one time in life, then sailing before 
the favorable wind of prosperity, when ad- 
versity overtakes them, their honesty too 
often flies away on the same wings with 
their riches, and, what they once viewed 
with holy horror, they now practice with 
shameless impunity. 

Others, at the commencement of a pros- 
perous career, are quite above any tricks in 
trade ; but their love of money increases 
with their wealth, their honesty relaxes, they 
become hard honest men, then hardly honest, 
and are, finally, confirmed in dishonesty. 



On the great day of account, it will be 
found that men have erred more in judging 
of the honesty of others than in any one 
thing else; not even religion excepted. 
Many who have been condemned, and had 
the stigma of dishonesty fixed upon them, 
because misfortune disabled them from pay- 
ing their just debts, will stand acquitted by 
the Judge of quick and dead, whilst others 
cover dishonest hearts and actions, undetected 
by man. 

A False Motto. 

It is our earnest desire to eradicate the 
impression, so fatal to many a young roan, 
that one cannot live by being perfectly honest. 
You must have known men who have gone 
on for years in unbroken prosperity and yet 
never adopted that base motto, "All is fair in 
trade." You must have seen, too, noble 
examples of those who have met with losses 
and failures, and yet risen from them all with 
a conscious integrity, and who have been 
sustained by the testimony of all around 
them, that, though unfortunate, they were 
never dishonest? When we set before you 
such examples, when we show you, not only 
that "Honesty is the best policy," but that 
it is the very keystone of the whole arch of 
manly and Christian qualities, every sincere 
heart must respond to the appeal. 

Many beautiful incidents of this virtue are 
related, and the following will be likely to 
interest every reader . One evening a poor 
man and his son, a little boy, sat by the 
wayside near the gate of an old town in 
Germany. The father took out a loaf of 
bread which he had bought in the town, and 
broke it, and gave half to his boy. 

"Not so, father," said the boy; "I shall 
not eat until after you. You have been 
working hard all day, for small wages, to 
support me ; and you must be very hungry ; 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



217 



I shall wait till you have done." "You 
speak kindly, my son," replied the pleased 
father; "your love to me does me more 
good than my food; and those eyes of yours 
remind me of your dear mother who has left 
us, who told you to love me as you used to 
do ; and indeed, my boy, you have been a 
great strength and comfort to me ; but now 
that I have eaten the first morsel to please 
you, it is your turn now to eat." 

" Thank you, father ; but break this piece 
in two, and take you a little more, for you 
see the loaf is not large, and you require 
much more than I do." " I shall divide the 
loaf for you, my boy ; but eat it I shall not ; 
I have abundance ; and let us thank God for 
his great goodness in giving us food, and in 
giving us what is better still, cheerful and 
contented hearts. He who gave us the liv- 
ing bread from heaven, to nourish our 
immortal souls, how shall he not give us all 
other food which is necessaiy to support our 
mortal bodies? " 

The Loaf was Loaded. 

The father and son thanked God, and 
then began to cut the loaf in pieces, to begin 
their frugal meal. But as they cut one por- 
tion of the loaf, there fell out several large 
pieces of gold of great value. The little boy 
gave a shout of joy, and was springing for- 
ward to grasp the unexpected treasure, when 
he was pulled back by his father ; " My son, 
my son ! " he cried, " do not touch that 
money : it is not ours." " But whose is it, 
father, if it is not ours ? " "I know not, as 
yet, to whom it belongs ; but probably it was 
put there by the baker through some mis- 
take. We must inquire ; run. " " But, 
father," interrupted the boy, " you are poor 
and needy, and you have bought the loaf, 
and the baker may tell a lie, and " 

" I will not listen to you, my boy. I 



bought the loaf, but I did not buy the gold 
in it. If the baker sold it to me in ignorance,, 
I shall not be so dishonest as to take advan- 
tage of him. Remember him who told us to 
do to others as we would have others to do 
to us. The baker may possibly cheat us. 
I am poor, indeed, but that is no sin. If wc 
share the poverty of Jesus, God's own Son, 
oh ! let us share, also, his goodness and his 
trust in God. — We may never be rich, but 
we may always be honest. We may die of 
starvation, but God's will be done, should we 
die in doing it ! Yes, my boy, trust God, 
and walk in his ways, and you shall never 
be put to shame ! Now run to the baker, 
and bring him here, and I shall watch the 
gold until he comes." 

The Honestest Man in Town. 

So the boy ran for the baker. " Brother 
workman," said the old man, " you have 
made some mistake, and almost lost your 
money ; " and he showed the baker the gold,, 
and told him how it had been found. " Is it 
thine? " asked the father ; " if it is, take it 
away." " My father, baker, is very poor, 

and " "Silence, my child; put me not 

to shame by thy complaints. I am glad we 
have saved this man from losing his money." 

The baker had been gazing alternately 
upon the honest father and his eager boy,, 
and upon the gold which lay glittering upon 
the green turf — " Thou art indeed an honest 
fellow," said the baker ; " and my neighbor 
David, the flax-dresser, spoke but the truth 
when he said thou wert the honestest man 
in our town. Now I shall tell thee about 
the gold. A stranger came to my shop 
three days ago, and gave it me to sell it 
cheaply, or give it away, to the honestest 
poor man whom I knew in the city. I told 
David to send thee to me, as a customer, 
this morning ; and as thou wouldst not take 




THE FIRST WRONG ACT. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



219 



the loaf for nothing, I sold it to thee, as thou 
knowest, for the last pence in thy purse; 
and the loaf, with all its treasure — and, 
surely, it is not small ! — is thine, and God 
grant thee a blessing with it! " 

The poor father bent his head to the 
ground, while the tears fell from his eyes. 
His boy ran and put his hand about his neck, 
and said, " I shall always, like you, my 
father, trust God, and do what is right ; for 
I am sure it will never put me to shame." 

Selling Honesty. 

Yet there be others, that will truckle to a lie, selling 

honesty for interest ; 
And do they gain ? They gain but loss ; a little 

cash, with scorn. 
Behold the sorrowful change wrought upon a fallen 

nature : 
He hath lost his own esteem and other men's 

respect ; 
For the buoyancy of upright faith, he is clothed in 

the heaviness of cringing. 
For plain truth, where none could err, he hath 

chosen tortuous paths ; 
In lieu of his majesty of countenance, the timorous 

glances of servility, 
Instead of Freedom's honest pride, the spirit of a 

slave. 

M. F. TuppER. 

In early life Dr. Adam Clarke was placed 
with a Mr. Bennet, a linen merchant of Cole- 
raine, in the north of Ireland. In his auto- 
biography the doctor remarks, when speaking 
of the business in which he was engaged, 
" he thought he saw several things in it that 
he could hardly do with a clear conscience." 
It would, perhaps, not be uninteresting to 
know what were these " several things." 

One of them was as follows : Mr. Bennet 
and Mr. Clarke were one day engaged in 
preparing the linen for the great market in 
Dublin, measuring how many yards there 
were in each piece, Adam laying hold of one 
end and Mr. Bennet of the other. They 
found that one piece wanted a couple of 



inches to make a complete yard at the end. 
"Come, Adam," says Mr. Bennet, "lay hold 
of the piece and pull against me, and we 
shall soon make it come up to the yard." 
Alas ! he little knew whom he had to deal 
with. 

His Conscience would not Stretch. 

Adam dropped the linen on the ground, 
stood and looked like one counfounded. 
"What's the matter?" said Mr. Bennet. 
" Sir," says he, " I can't do it ; I think it is a 
wrong thing." "Nonsense," says Mr. Ben- 
net, "it is done every day ; it won't make 
the hnen a bit the worse ; the process it has 
passed through has made it shrink a little. 
Come, take hold." "No," says he, "no." 
Mr. Bennet was a very placid man, and they 
entered into a dispute about this piece of 
linen, until, at last, he was obliged to give it 
up ; it was a lost case ; Adam would not 
consent to meddle with it ; he thought it was 
not fair ; at least it did not suit the standard 
of his conscience. Thus early exemplifying 
that scrupulous honesty for which he was 
during life remarkable. He afterward became 
celebrated for his Commentaries on the Bible. 

Some years ago, two aged men near Mar- 
shalton traded, or, according to Virginia par- 
lance, " swapped " horses on this condition: 
that on that day week, the one who thought 
he had the best of the bargain should pay 
to the other two bushels of wheat. The day 
came, and, as luck would have it, they met 
about half way between their respective 
homes. "Where art thou going?" said one. 
"To thy house with the wheat," answered 
the other. "And whither art thou riding?" 
"Truly," replied the first, "I was taking the 
wheat to thy house." Each, pleased with 
his bargain, had thought the wheat justly 
due to his neighbor, and was going to pay it. 

The Prince of Conti being highly pleased 



220 



HONESTY. 



with the intrepid behavior of a grenadier at 
the siege of Phillipsburgh in 1734, threw 
him his purse, excusing the smallness of the 
sum it contained as being too poor a reward 
for his courage. Next morning the grena- 
dier went to the prince with a couple of 
diamond rings and other jewels of consider- 
able value. "Sir," said he, "the gold I found 
in your purse I suppose your highness in- 
tended for me; but these I bring back to you 
as having no claim on them." "You have, 
soldier," answered the prince, " doubly de- 
served them by your bravery and by your 
honesty; therefore they are yours." 

Making Money Fast. 

An honest young man has in his bosom a 
treasure of more real value than the wealth 
of nations. Should I be asked, what would 
most contribute to a man's success, in any 
vocation whatever, I would reply: Honesty. 
Should I be asked what would most certainly 
prevent success, I would reply: Dishonesty. 
Now it occurs, that to dishonest practices, 
the young men of our land are particularly 
exposed. While females are protected from 
the temptations to this sin, while from the 
peculiarity of their situation in society, they 
are to a considerable extent secure, young men 
are surrounded with inducements and temp- 
tations. Just commencing life, they wish to 
do well, and not unfrequently imagine, that 
to succeed they must make money fast, and 
get rich quick, and hence to secure this, will 
embark in many a scheme of doubtful char- 
acter. 

The expenses of poor young men are 
generally more than equal to their income, 
and if they are bent on living extravagantly, 
they will be tempted to enter into many a 
course of folly and crime to obtain the neces- 
sary funds. But however expert the dishon- 
est man may be, however long he may go 



on uninterrupted in his villany, however 
successful he may be at the onset, he will 
assuredly fail. 

The forger cannot long continue that sin 
without detection ; the counterfeiter will as- 
suredly be taken in his own snare; the 
gambler will come to poverty, and the thief 
will bring himself to the prison and the 
dungeon. There is no safety for a young 
man in the early period of life, without strict 
and unbending integrity in word and deed. 

Complete failure will sooner or later, come 
upon every man who does not subscribe to 
the principles of rectitude. I know that 
dishonesty is prevalent. I know that it 
exists everywhere, and to a fearful extent 
enters into all the affairs of life. As Shakes- 
peare says: 

" To be honest, as this world goes, 
Is to be one picked out of ten thousand." 

Very Dear Success. 

Not seldom is the clerk taught to inform 
the customer, that certain goods cost such a 
sum, that they are durable and fashionable, 
when he knows it to be false. Not seldom 
is the ignorance of the purchaser made the 
cause of a "good trade," and apprentices are 
led to look upon such a fraud as a harmless 
transaction. In these and a thousand other 
ways are the principles of honesty shame- 
fully violated and outraged, and the basis is 
laid for a long and aggravated course of 
crime and duplicity. But the old maxim, 
"honesty is the best poHcy," will be found 
to be true in all the transactions of life. 

What though a man does make a mo- 
mentary advance in his business by dis- 
honesty? What though at the end of each 
year he is a hundred dollars richer than he- 
would have been but for his fraud? What 
though he may have enlarged his store, and 
beautified his residence, and secured the 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



221 



smiles of the wealthy? What though he 
is enabled to ride in his carriage, and dress 
in gilt and gold? Will not the vengeance 
of God follow him? Will not his ill-gotten 
gains rust and canker his heart? Will not 
commercial distress or some other element 
of destruction sweep away his property, 
taking the well-earned with the ill-gotten? 

I knew a young man who started in life 
with high hopes and prospects. He had a 
little property to commence with, and was 
determined that it should increase at all 
hazard. Honestly or dishonestly, he was 
bound to be rich. His motto was, "All is 
right in trade," and well did he carry it out. 
He thought it was the duty of his customers 
to find out the defects in the goods which 
they purchased of him ; they were the ones 
to discover what was bad in the bargain. 
He supposed he was clear when he had 
made the sale, and felt compelled by no 
principle of morality to help his customers 
make good bargains. 

Like a Clap of Thunder. 

Thus it continued awhile. He would 
openly boast of having made this sum and 
that sum, from this and that person. He 
seemed to be growing rich, his place of busi- 
ness was crowded. His fair stories and 
smooth looks drew a crowd of visitors, and 
for awhile he made money very rapidly. 
When he least expected it, a great failure in 
another city occurred, the intelligence of 
which came upon him hke a clap of thunder 
on a cloudless day. Other failures followed, 
and he began to reap the reward of his dis- 
honesty. 

When he began to sink, reports of his 
dishonesty, which until then had been 
hushed, spread hke wild-fire, and soon he 
found it impossible to continue his business. 
Those who had money and goods were 



afraid of him. Confidence in his character 
was gone, and he was obliged to relinquish 
business entirely, move from the fine house 
in which he lived, and become a clerk, and 
was looked upon with suspicion even at that. 
I have known other men in business who 
have met with' disasters and failures, and 
have stood unaffected by them, superior to 
their crushing influence, from the simple fact 
that they were honest men, and could look 
community in the face with a consciousness 
that though they were unfortunate, they were 
not guilty. 

"You can Trust Him." 

Thompson, in his lectures to young men, 
states the following fact: "The president of 
the old United States Bank, once dismissed 
a private clerk, because the latter refused to 
write for him on the Sabbath. The young 
man, with a mother dependent on his exer- 
tions, was thus thrown out of employment, 
by what some would call an over-nice 
scruple of conscience. But a few days after, 
when the President was requested to nomi- 
nate a cashier for another bank, he recom- 
mended this very individual, mentioning this 
incident as a sufficient testimony to his trust- 
worthiness. 'You can trust him,' said he, 
'for he would not work for me on the Sab- 
bath.' " 

Awhile since, a young man was dismissed 
from his place, because he would not become 
party to a falsehood, by which refusal the 
firm failed to secure several hundred dollars 
which did not belong to them, but which 
they expected to obtain. For the crime of 
honesty and truth the young man was dis- 
missed from his position. A few days after- 
wards, hearing of a vacant situation, he 
appHed for it. 

The merchant who wished him for an 
accountant, asked if he could refer him to 



222 



HONESTY. 



any individual by whom he was known, and 
who would recommend him as an upright 
young man. With conscious innocence, and 
firm in his uprightness, he replied, " I have 

just been dismissed from Mr. 's, of 

whom you may inquire. He has tried me, 
he has known me." When applied to, his 
former employer gave a full and free recom- 
mendation, and added, " He was too con- 
scientious about little matters." The young 
man is now partner in a large firm in Boston, 
and is apparently becoming rich. 

A Treasure above Price. 

A multitude of cases might be added, illus- 
trating the value of honesty, and the great 
danger and shame of falsehood and fraud. 
Business men will rehearse them to you by 
scores, and prove that under any circum- 
stances " honesty is the best policy." And 
so you will find it in all your dealings with 
your fellow-men, and as you grow older in 
life, the conviction will become stronger and 
deeper, that a good reputation for honesty 
and manliness is above all price. 

"The purest treasure mortal lives afford, 
Is spotless reputation ; that away, 
Men are but gilded worms or painted clay." 

Remember these things as you advance in 
life, and as you grow older preserve your 
integrity. Be above the little arts and tricks 
of small men, and if you grow rich, let it be 
by honest and patient industry. Build not 
up a fortune from the labors of others, from 
the unpaid debts of creditors, from the uncer- 
tain games of chance, but from manly effort, 
which never goes unrewarded. Never engage 
in any business unless you can be honest in 
it ; if it will not give a fair living without 
fraud, leave it, as you would the gate of 
death. 

If, after all, you are poor, if by exerting 



yourself nobly and manfully, if by living 
honestly and uprightly you cannot secure a 
competency, then submit to poverty, aye, to 
hard, grinding poverty. Be willing, if it 
must be so, to breast the cold tide of want 
and sorrow, see your flesh waste day by 
day, and your blood beat more heavily, than 
make yourself rich at the expense of honesty. 

Rewards of Honesty. 

All is vanity which is not honesty — thus is it graven 
on the tomb ; 

I speak of honest purpose, character, speech, and 
action. 

Honesty, even by itself, though making many adver- 
saries 

Whom prudence might have set aside, or charity 
have softened. 

Evermore will prosper at the last, and gain a man 
great honor. 

M. F. TUPPER. 

The following incident is a striking illus- 
tration of the saying that honesty is the best 
policy : 

Two boys came at an early hour to a 
country market-town. They spread out 
their little stands, and sat down to wait for 
customers. One of them sold melons and 
fruit, the others dealt in oysters and fish. 
The market hours passed on, and they were 
both doing well. The goods on their stands 
were gradually getting less, and the money 
in their pockets gradually getting more. 
The last melon lay on Harry's stand. A 
gentleman came by, and placing his hand on 
it, said, "What a fine large melon ! I think 
I must buy it. What do you ask for it, my 
boy? " 

" The melon is the last I have, sir, and 
though it looks very fair, there is an unsound 
spot on the other side," said the boy, turning 
it over. 

"So there is," said the man, "I think I'll 
not take it. "But," he added, looking in the 
boy's face, " is it very business-like to point 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



223 



out the defects of your goods to customers ? " 

" Perhaps not, sir but it's better than being 
dishonest," said the boy, modestly. 

"You are right, my boy ; always remem- 
ber to speak the truth, and you will find 
favor with God and man. You have nothing 
else that I wish this morning, but I shall not 
forget your little stand in the future." Then, 
turning to Ben Wilson's stand, he asked, 
"Are those oysters fresh? " 

"Yes, sir, fresh this morning," was the 
reply. The gentleman bought them and 
went away. 

" Harry, what a fool you were to show the 
gentleman that spot in the melon ! Now 
you can take it home for your pains, or 
throw it away. How much wiser I was 



about those stale oysters ; sold them at the 
same price as the fresh ones. He would 
never have looked at the melon till he got 
home." 

" Ben, I wouldn't tell a lie, or act one 
either for twice the money we've both earned 
to-day. Besides, I shall be better off in the 
end, for I have gained a customer, and you 
have lost one." 

And so it proved ; for the next day the 
gentleman bought a large supply of fruit 
from Harry, but he never spent another 
penny at Ben's stand. So it continued all 
through the summer. At the close of the 
season he took Harry into his store, and, 
after awhile, gave him a share in the business. 
There are some things that pay. 





KING CANUTE TRYING TO SWEEP BACK THE OCEAN. 



224 



CHAPXKR XIII. 
TRUTHFULNESS. 




F I take out my watch to find 
what time it is, it will be of 
little use for me to look at it 
unless I am sure that it keeps 
good time. If it sometimes 
stands still for an hour or more 
and then goes on again ; if it 
sometimes loses two or three hours a day by 
going too slow, or gains as much more by 
going too fast, then I cannot depend upon it. 
A watch that cannot be depended upon is 
of very little use. It may have a beautiful 
gold case, it may be sparkling with jewels, 
yet it will be of no service to me as a watch 
unless I can depend on what it tells me 
about the time. We do not judge of the 
value of a watch by the kind of case it has, 
but by finding out whether it keeps good 
time. 

And so, one of the things by which we 
judge of the real value and worth of men or 
women, of boys or girls, is this : Are they 
truthful ? Do they mean what they say ? 
Are they really what they seem to be ? If 
they speak the truth and act the truth, then 
they are like a watch that keeps good time. 

A gentleman once asked a deaf and dumb 
boy, " What is truth?" He replied by taking 
a piece of chalk and drawing on the black- 
board a straight line between two points. 
Then he asked him, " What is a lie ?" The 
boy rubbed out the straight line, and drew a 
zig-zag (or crooked line) between the same 
two points. Remember this. 

Truth is the beginning of every good 



thing, both in heaven and on earth ; and 
he who would be blessed and happy should 
be from the first a partaker of the truth, that 
he may live a true man as long as possible, 
for then he can be trusted ; but he is not to 
be trusted who loves voluntary falsehood, 
and he who loves involuntary falsehood is 
a fool. 

She Did a Large Business. 

Here is what Ben Franklin has to say on 
the subject of truth and deception: 

"A friend of mine was the other day 
cheapening some trifles at a shopkeeper's, 
and after a few words they agreed on a price. 
At the tying up of the parcels he had pur- 
chased, the mistress of the shop told him 
that people were growing very hard, for she 
actually lost by everything she sold. How, 
then, is it possible, said my friend, that you 
can keep on your business. Indeed, sir, 
answered she, I must of necessity shut my 
doors, had I not a very great trade. The 
reason, said my friend (with a sneer), is 
admirable. 

"There are a great many retailers who 
falsely imagine that lying is much for their 
advantage; and some of them have a saying 
that it is a pity lying is a sin, it is so useful 
in trade; though, if they would examine 
into the reason why a number of shop- 
keepers raise considerable estates, while 
others who have set out with better for- 
tunes have become bankrupts, they would 
find that the former made up with truth 

225 



226 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



diligence and probity, what they were de- 
ficient of in stock; while the latter have 
been guilty of imposing on such customers 
as they found had no skill in the quality 
of their goods. 

"The former character raises a credit 
which supplies the want of fortune, and their 
fair dealing brings them customers; whereas 
none will i-eturn to buy of him by whom he 
has been once imposed upon. If people in 
trade would judge rightly, we might buy 
blindfolded, and they would save both to 
themselves and customers the unpleasant- 
ness of haggling. 

"Though there are numbers of shopkeep- 
ers who scorn the mean vice of lying, and 
whose word may very safely be relied on, 
yet there are too many who will endeavor, 
and, backing their falsities with assevera- 
tions, pawn their salvation to raise their 
prices. 

Never Told a Lie. 

"As example works more than precept, 
and my sole view being the good and inter- 
est of my countrymen, whom I could wish 
to see without any vice or folly, I shall offer 
an example of the veneration bestowed on 
truth and abhorrence of falsehood among 
the ancients. 

"Augustus, triumphing over Mark An- 
tony and Cleopatra, among other captives 
who accompanied them brought to Rome 
a priest of about sixty years old. The 
Senate, being informed that this man had 
never been detected in a falsehood, and was 
believed never to have told a lie, not only 
restored him to liberty, but made him a 
High Priest, and caused a statue to be 
erected to his honor. The priest thus 
honored was an Egyptian, and an enemy 
to Rome; but his virtue removed all ob- 
stacles. 



" Pamphilius was a Roman citizen whose 
body upon his death was forbidden sepul- 
ture, his estate was confiscated, his house 
razed, and his wife and children banished 
the Roman territories, wholly for his having 
been a notorious and inveterate liar. 

"Could there be greater demonstrations 
of respect for truth than these of the 
Romans, who elevated an enemy to the 
greatest honors, and exposed the family 
of a citizen to the greatest contumely? 

Will Lie and Swear to It. 

"There can be no excuse for lying; neither 
is there anything equally despicable and 
dangerous as a liar, no man being safe who 
associates with him ; for, he who will lie will 
swear to it, says the proverb, and such a 
one may endanger my life, turn my family 
out of doors, and ruin my reputation, when- 
ever he shall find it his interest; and if a 
man will lie and swear to it in his shop to 
obtain a trifle, why should we doubt his 
doing so when he may hope to make a 
fortune by his perjury? The crime is in 
itself so mean, that to call a man a liar is 
esteemed everywhere an affront not to be 
forgiven. 

" If any have lenity enough to allow the 
dealers an excuse for this bad practice, I 
believe they will allow none for the gentle- 
man who is addicted to this vice, and must 
look upon him with contempt. That the 
world does so is visible by the derision 
with which his name is treated whenever it 
is mentioned. 

" The philosopher Epimenides gave the 
Rhodians this description of truth : She is 
the companion of the gods, the joy of 
heaven, the light of the earth, the pedestal 
of justice, and the basis of good policy. 

" Eschines told the same people that truth 
was a virtue without which force was en- 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



feebled, justice corrupted, humility became 
dissimulation, patience intolerable, chastity a 
dissembler, liberty lost, and pity superfluous. 



for all evils, and a light to the whole world. 

"Anaxarchus, speaking of truth, said it 

was health incapable of sickness, life not sub- 




" ISO \IRTUE OF MORE NOBLE WORTH, 

THAN TRUTH, FROM HEAVEN BROUGHT TO EARTH. 



" Pharmanes, the philosopher, told the 
Romans that truth was the centre on which 
all things rested : a chart to sail by, a remedy 



ject to death, an elixir that healeth all, a sun 
not to be obscured, a moon without eclipse, 
an herb which never withereth, a gate that 



228 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



is never closed, and a path which never 
fatigues the traveller. 

" But, if we are blind to the beauties of 
truth, it is astonishing that we should not 
open our eyes to the inconvenience of falsity. 
A man given to romance must be always on 
his guard for fear of contradicting and ex- 
posing himself to derision ; for it is impos- 
sible, with the utmost circumspection, to 
travel long on this route without detection, 
and shame and confusion follow. Whereas, 
he who is a votary of truth never hesitates 
for an answer, has never to rack his inven- 
tion to make the sequel quadrate with the 
beginning of his story, nor is he obliged to 
burden his memory with minute circurn- 
stances, since truth speaks easily what it 
recollects, and repeats openly and frequently 
without varying facts, which liars cannot 
always do, even though gifted with a good 
memory." 

The Angel of Truth. 

Hard by Truth's temple 

A lovely being stood ; 
Arrayed in white, 

The symbol of her God. 
The unholy throng passed by. 

And stood aghast ; 
Said, Let me be like her, 

And on they passed. 

There's beauty in that form 

Not elsewhere seen ; 
It's in her name and nature, 

And her stately mien. 
Her name is Truth, 

A lovely Christian grace ; 
Among heaven's mighty 
She ever holds her place. 

The earth shall pass away. 

The stars shall fall. 
The heavens roll together 

L,ike a parchment scroll ; 
But truth shall live forever. 

And through endless ages give 

Her blessings to the sainted, 
And fail them never, never. 



Honesty and truthfulness go well together. 
Honesty is truth, and truth is honesty. 
Truth alone may not constitute a great man, 
but it is the most iinportant element of a 
great character. It gives security to those 
who employ him, and confidence to those 
who serve under him. Truth is the essence 
of principle, integrity, and independence. It 
is the primary need of every man. Absolute 
veracity is more needed now than at any 
former period in our history. 

Dare to be True. 

Lying, common though it be, is de- 
nounced even by the liar himself He pro- 
tests that he is speaking the truth, for he 
knows that truth is universally respected, 
while lying is universally condemned. Lying 
is not only dishonest, but cowardly. " Dare 
to be true," said George Herbert ; " nothing 
can ever need a lie." The most mischiev- 
ous liars are those who keep on the verge 
of truth. They have not the courage to 
speak out the fact, but go round about it, 
and tell what is really untrue. A lie which 
is half the truth is the worst of lies. 

There is a duplicity of life which is quite 
as bad as verbal falsehood. Actions have 
as plain a voice as words. The mean man 
is false to his profession. He evades the 
truth that he professes to believe. He plays 
at double dealing. He wants sincerity and 
veracity. The sincere man speaks as he 
thinks, believes as he pretends to believe, 
acts as he professes to act, and performs as 
he promises. 

"Other forms of practical contradiction 
are common," says Mr. Spurgeon ; " some 
are intolerantly liberal ; others are ferocious 
advocates for peace, or intemperate on intem- 
perance. We have known pleaders for 
generosity who were themselves miserably 
stingy. We have heard of persons who 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



22» 



•have been wonderful sticklers for 'the truth ' 
— meaning thereby a certain form of doctrine 
— and yet they have not regarded the truth 
in matters of buying and selling, or with 
regard to the reputations of their neighbors, 
or the incidents of domestic life." 

Lying is one of the most common and 
conventional of vices. It prevails in what is 
called " society." " Not at home " is the 
fashionable mode of reply to a visitor. 
Lying is supposed to be so necessary to 
carry on human affairs that it is tacitly 
agreed to. One lie may be considered 
harmless, another slight, another unintended. 
Little lies are common. However tolerated, 
lying is more or less loathsome to every 
pure-minded man or woman. "Lies," says 
Ruskin, "may be light and accidental, but 
they are an ugly soot from the smoke of the 
pit, and it is better that our hearts should be 
swept clean of them, without our care as to 
which is largest or blackest." 

Regulus Returned and Died. 

A man should care more for his word than 
for his life. When Regulus was sent by the 
Carthaginians, whose prisoner he was, to 
Rome, with a convoy of ambassadors to sue 
for peace, it was under the condition that he 
should return to his prison if peace were not 
effected. He took the oath, and swore that 
he would come back. 

When he appeared at Rome he urged the 
senators to persevere in the war, and not to 
agree to the exchange of prisoners. That 
involved his return to captivity at Carthage. 
The senators, and even the chief priest, held 
that as his oath had been wrested from him 
by force, he was not bound to go. " Have 
you resolved to dishonor me ? " asked Regu- 
lus. "I am not ignorant that death and tor- 
tures are preparing for me ; but what are 
these to the shame of an infamous action, or 



the wounds of a guilty mind ? Slave as I 
am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a 
Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my 
duty to go. Let the gods take care of the 
rest." Regulus returned to Carthage, and 
died under torture. 

How to Live Well. 

" Let him that would live well," said Plato, 
"attain to truth, and then, and not before, 
he will cease from sorrow." Let us also 
cite a passage from the Emperor Marcus 
Aurelius : " He who acts unjustly acts im- 
piously ; for since the universal nature has 
made rational animals for the sake of one 
another, to help one another according to 
their deserts, but in no way to injure one 
another, he who transgresses his will is 
clearly guilty of impiety toward the highest 
divinity. And he, too, that lies is guilty 
of impiety to the same divinity, from the 
universal nature of all things that are ; and 
all things that are have a relation to alL 
things that come into existence. 

"And further, this universal nature is 
named truth, and is the prime cause of all 
things that are true. He, then, who lies 
intentionally is guilty of impiety, inasmuch as. 
he acts unjustly by deceiving ; and he also, 
who lies unintentionally, inasmuch as he is 
at variance with the universal nature, and 
inasmuch as he disturbs the order by fight- 
ing against the nature of the world; for he 
fights against it who is moved of himself to 
that which is contrary to truth, for he has 
received powers from nature, through the 
neglect of which he is not able now to dis- 
tinguish falsehood from truth. And, indeed, 
he who pursues pleasure as good, and avoids 
pain as evil, is guilty of impiety." 

Truth and honesty show themselves in 

various ways. They characterize the men 

1 of just dealing, the faithful men of business. 



230 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



the men who will not deceive you to their 
own advantage. Honesty is the plainest and 
humblest manifestation of the principle of 
truth. Full measures, just weights, true 
samples, full service, strict fulfillment of 
engagements, are all indispensable to men of 
character. 

All bad work is lying. It is thoroughly 
dishonest. You pay for having a work done 
well ; it is done badly and dishonestly. It 
may be varnished over with a fair show of 
sufficiency, but the sin is not discovered until 
it is too late. So long as these things con- 
tinue, it is in vain to talk of the dignity of 
labor, or of the social value of the so-called 
workingman. There can be no dignity of 
labor where there is no truthfulness of work. 
Dignity does not consist in hollowness and 
in light-handedness, but in substantiality and 
in strength. If there be flimsiness and super- 
ficiality of all kinds apparent in the work of 
the present day more than in the work of our 
forefathers, whence comes it ? From eager- 
ness and competition, and the haste to be rich 

Do Your Best. 

Socrates explained how usfful and excel- 
lent a thing it was that a n an should re- 
solve on perfection in his own line, so that, 
if he be a carpenter, he will be the best 
possible carpenter; or if a statesman, that 
he will be the best possible statesman. It is 
by such means that true success is achieved. 
Such a carpenter, Socrates said, would win 
the wreath of carpentering, though it was 
only of shavings. 

Take the case of Wedgewood, who had 
the spirit of the true worker. Though risen 
from the ranks, he was never satisfied until 
he had done his best. He looked especially 
to the quality of his work, to the purposes 
it would serve, and to the appreciation of it 
by others. This was the source of his 



work and success. He would tolerate n^ 
inferior work. If it did not come up to hi.« 
idea of what it should be, he would take up 
his stick, break the vessel, and throw it 
away, saying, "This won't do for Josiah 
Wedgewood !" 

Of course he took the greatest care to 
insure perfection, as regarded geometrical 
proportions, glaze, form and ornament. He 
pulled down kiln after kiln to effect some 
necessary improvement. He learned perfec- 
tion through repeated failures. He invented 
and improved almost every tool used in his 
works. He passed much of his time at the 
bench beside his workmen, instructing them 
individually. How he succeeded his works 
will show. 

He Kept his Word. 

Another instance of true honesty and 
courage may be mentioned in the case of a 
great contractor. We mean Thomas Bras- 
sey. Even when slighting was common, he 
was always true to his word and work. The 
Barentin viaduct of twenty-seven arches was 
nearly completed, when, loaded with wet 
after a heavy fall of rain, the whole building 
tumbled down. The casualty involved a loss 
of ^150,000. The contractor was neither 
morally nor legally responsible. He had 
repeatedly protested against the material 
used in the structure, and the French law- 
yers maintained that his protest freed him 
from liability. 

But Mr. Brassey was of a different opinion. 
He had contracted, he said, to make and 
maintain the road, and no law should pre- 
vent him from being as good as his word. 
The viaduct was rebuilt at Mr. Brassey's 
cost. His life is one of the highest exam- 
ples we can offer to this generation. 

There is more or less deception in all 
kinds of business. It used to be said there 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



231 



was "no God west of the Mississippi," but 
some persons might be disposed to think- 
there is no God east of that river. The 
almighty dollar is the true divinity, and its 
worship is universal. 

A Sacramento paper says that "Americans 
are a money-loving and money-making peo- 
ple. They have no queen or aristocracy to 
rule them ; their aristocracy is money. The 
lust of wealth overrides every other con- 
sideration. Fraud in trade is the rule in- 
stead of the exception. We poison our 
provisions with adulteration. We even 
poison our drugs with cheaper materials. 
We sell shoddy for wool. Wc sell veneer- 
ing for solid wood. We build wretched 
sheds of bad brick and bad mortar and 
green wood, and call them houses. We 
rob and cheat each other all round, and in 
every trade and business, and we are all so 
bent on making money that we have not 
time to protest against even the more pal- 
pable frauds, but console ourselves by going 
forth and swindling somebody else. We 
pay a very heavy price for our national 
idiosyncrasy. We are rapidly destroying 
•ur national sense of honesty and integrity. 

Fraud is Criminal. 

" In those benighted and slavish countries 
which are ruled by monarchs they contrive 
to live a great deal cheaper and a good deal 
better than we can. There fraud is regarded 
as criminal, and the impostor, when detected, 
is punished severely. But those are old fogy 
countries, who know nothing about liberty. 
They have no Fourth of July, no Wall 
Street, no codfish or shoddy aristocracies. 
They do not recognize the fact that the right 
to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness 
(which means money), entitles every man to 
cheat his neighbors, and bars redress." 

In the arithmetic of the counting-house 



two and two do not always make four. How 
many tricks are resorted to — in which hon- 
esty forms no part — for making money faster 
than others ! Instead of working patiently 
and well for a modest living, many desire to 
get rich all at once. The spirit of the age is 
not that of a trader, but of a gambler. The 
pace is too fast to allow of any one stopping 
to inquire as to those who have fallen out by 
the way. They press on ; the race for wealth 
is for the swift. Their faith is in money. It 
needs no prophet to point out the connection 
of our distress with the sin of commercial 
gambling and fraud, and of social extrava- 
gance and vanity, of widespread desolation 
and misery. The inevitable failure comes, 
and the recreant flies to avoid the curses 
of his creditors. 

A Poor German Peasant, 
Here is a fine specimen of honesty and 
truthfulness on the part of a poor German 
peasant. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre has told 
the story. He was serving as an engineer 
under the Count de Saint-Germain during 
his campaign in Hesse, in 1760. For the 
first time he became familiar with the horrors 
of war. Day by day he passed through 
sacked villages and devastated fields and 
farm-yards. Men, women, and children were 
flying from their cottages in tears. Armed 
men were everywhere destroying the fruits of 
their labor, regarding it as part of their glory. 
But in the midst of so many acts of cruelty 
Saint-Pierre was consoled by a sublime trait 
of character displayed by a poor man whose 
cottage and farm lay in the way of the 
advancing army. 

A captain of dragoons was ordered out 
with his troop to forage for provisions. 
They reached a poor cabin and knocked at 
the door. An old man with a white beard 
appeared. " Take me to a field," said the 



232 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



officer, "where I can obtain forage for my 
troops." "Immediately, sir," replied the 
old man. He put himself at their head, and 
ascended the valley. After about half an 
hour's march a fine field of barley appeared. 
"This will do admirably," said the officer. 
"No," said the old man ; "wait a httle, and 
all will be right." They went on again, 
until they reached another field of barley. 
The troops dismounted, mowed down the 
grain, and trussing it up in bundles, put them 
on their horses. "Friend, said the officer, 
"how is it that you have brought us so far? 
The first field of barley that we saw was quite 
as good as this." "That is quite true," said 
the peasant, " but it was not mine !" 

"I was there to See Myself." 
The true character acts rightly, whether 
in secret or in the sight of men. That boy 
was well trained who, when asked why he 
did not pocket some pears, for nobody was 
there to see, replied: "Yes, there was; I 
was there to see myself; and I don't intend 
ever to see myself do a dishonest thing." 
This is a simple but not inappropriate illustra- 
tion of principle, or conscience, dominating 
in the character, and exercising a noble pro- 
tectorate over it; not merely a passive influ- 
ence, but an active power regulating the hfe. 
Such a principle goes on molding the 
character hourly and daily, growing with 
a force that operates every moment. With- 
out this dominating influence, character has 
no protection, but is constantly liable to fall 
away before temptation ; and every such 
temptation succumbed to, every act of mean- 
ness or dishonesty, however slight, causes 
self-degradation. It matters not whether 
the act be successful or not, discovered or 
concealed ; the culprit is no longer the same, 
but another person ; and he is pursued by 
a secret uneasiness, by self-reproach, or the 



workings of what we call conscience, which 
is the inevitable doom of the guilty. 

There is a truthfulness in action, as well as 
in words, which is essential to uprightness of 
character. A man must really be what he 
seems or purposes to be. When an Ameri- 
can gentleman wrote to Granville Sharp, that 
from respect for his great virtues he had 
named one of his sons after him, Sharp re- 
plied : " I must request you to teach him a 
favorite maxim of the family whose name 
you have given him — Always endeavor to be 
really what you would wish to appear. This 
maxim, as my father informed me, was care- 
fully and humbly practiced by his father, 
whose sincerity, as a plain and honest man, 
thereby became the principal feature of his 
character, both in public and private life." 

Every man who respects himself, and 
values the respect of others, will carry out 
the maxim in act — doing honestly what he 
proposes to do — putting the highest charac- 
ter into his work, slighting nothing, but 
priding himself upon his integrity and con- 
scientiousness. 

Once Cromwell said to Bernard — a clever 
but somewhat unscrupulous lawyer : " I un- 
derstand that you have lately been vastly 
wary in your conduct : do not be too con- 
fident of this: subtlety may deceive you,. 
integrity never will." Men whose acts are 
at variance with their words command no 
respect, and what they say has but little 
weight : even truths, when uttered by them, 
seem to come blasted from their lips. 

The Warfare of Truth. 

Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, 

And fiery hearts and armed hands 
Encountered in the battle-cloud. 

Ah ! never shall the land forget 

How gushed the life-blood of her brave — 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



233 



I 



Gashed, warm with hope and courage yet, 
Upon the soil they fought to save. 

Now all is calm and fresh and still ; 

Alone the chirp of flitting bird, 
And talk of children on the hill. 

And bell of wandering kine, are heard. 

No solemn host goes trailing by 

The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain ; 
Men start not at the battle-cr>- — 

O, be it never heard again ! 

Soon rested those who fought ; but thou 

Who minglest in the harder strife 
For truths which men receive not now, 

Thy warfare only ends with life. 

A friendless warfare ! lingering long 
Through weary day and weary year ; 

A wild and many-weaponed throng 
Hang on thy front and flank and rear. 

Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, 

And blanch not at thy chosen lot ; 
The timid good may stand aloof, 

The sage may frown— yet faint thou not. 

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast. 

The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ; 
For with thy side shall dwell, at last, 

The victory of endurance born. 

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again — 

The eternal years of God are hers ; 
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain. 

And dies among his worshippers. 

Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, 

When they who helped thee flee in fear, 

Die full of hope and manly trust. 
Like those who fell in battle here ! 

Another hand thy sword shall wield. 

Another hand the standard wave, 
Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed 

The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. 

William Cullen Bryant. 

Oh, how great is the power of truth ! 
which of its own power can easily defend 
itself against all the ingenuity and cunning 
wisdom of men, and against the treacherous 
plots of all the world. The firmest and 
noblest ground on which people can live is 



truth ; the real with the real ; a ground on 
which nothing is assumed. 

To love truth for truth's sake is the prin- 
cipal part of human perfection in this world, 
and the seed-plot of all other virtues. The 
germs of all truth lie in the soul, and when 
the ripe moment comes, the truth within 
answers to the fact without as the flower 
responds to the sun, giving it form for heat 
and color for light. 

Story of a Cobbler, 

We read a pretty story of St. Anthony, 
who, being in the wilderness, led there a very 
hard and strait life, insomuch that none at 
that time did the like ; to whom came a 
voice from heaven, saying, "Anthony, thou 
art not so perfect as is a cobbler that dwelleth 
at Alexandria." Anthony, hearing this, rose 
up forthwith, and took his staff, and went till 
he came to Alexandria, where he found the 
cobbler. The cobbler was astonished to see 
so reverend a father come to his house. 
Then Anthony said unto him, " Come and 
tell me thy whole conversation, and how 
thou spendest thy time." 

"Sir," said the cobbler, " as for me, good 
works have I none ; for my life is but simple 
and slender. I am but a poor cobbler. Jn 
the morning when I rise, I pray for the whole 
city wherein I dwell, especially for all such 
neighbors and poor friends as I have ; after, 
I set me at my labor, where I spend *th^ 
whole day in getting my living ; and I keep 
me from all falsehood, for I hate nothing so 
much as I do deceitfulness ; wherefore, when 
I make to any man a promise, I keep it and 
perform it truly. And thus I spend my time 
poorly with my wife and children, whom I 
teach and instruct, as far as my wit will 
serve me, to fear and love God. And thi^ 
is the sum of my simple life." -^ 

Duty is closely allied to truthfulness of 



234 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



character ; and the dutiful man is, above all 
things, truthful in his words as in his actions. 
He says and he does the right thing in the 
right way, and at the right time. 

There is probably no saying of Chester- 
field that commends itself more strongly to 
the approval of manly-minded men, than 
that it is truth that makes the success of the 
man. Clarendon, speaking of one of the 
noblest and purest men of his age, says of 
Falkland, that he " was so severe an adorer 
of truth, that he could as easily have given 
Jiimself leave to steal as to dissemble." 

Always Fulfilled His Promise. 

It was one of the finest things that Mrs. 
Hutchinson could say of her husband, that 
Jie was a thoroughly truthful and reliable 
man : " He never professed the thing he 
intended not, nor promised what he believed 
out of his power, nor failed in the perform- 
ance of anything that was in his power to 
fulfill." 

Wellington was a severe admirer of truth. 
An illustration may be given. When 
afflicted by deafness, he consulted a cele- 
brated aurist, who, after trying all remedies 
in vain, determined, as a last resource, to 
inject into the ear a strong solution of caustic. 
It caused the most intense pain, but the 
patient bore it with his usual equanimity. 
The. family physician accidentally calling 
one day, found the duke with flushed cheeks 
.and blood-shot eyes, and when he rose he 
staggered about like a drunken man. 

The doctor asked to be permitted to look 
at his ear, and then he found that a furious 
inflammation was going on, which, if not 
immediately checked, must shortly reach the 
brain and kill him. Vigorous remedies were 
at once applied, and the inflammation was 
checked. But the hearing of that car was 
completely destroyed. 



When the aurist heard of the danger his 
patient had run, through the violence of the 
remedy he had employed, he hastened to the 
Apsley House to express his grief and mor- 
tification ; but the duke merely said : " Do 
not say a word more about it — you did all 
for the best." The aurist said it would be 
his ruin when it became known that he had 
been the cause of so much suffering and 
danger to the duke. " But nobody need 
know anything about it: keep your own 
counsel, and, depend upon it, I won't say a 
word to anyone." " Then you will allow 
me to attend you as usual, which will show 
the public that you have not withdrawn your 
confidence from me?" "No," replied the 
duke, kindly but firmly ; " I can't do that, 
for that would be a lie." He would not act 
a falsehood any more than he would speak 
one. 

Blucher at Waterloo, 

Another illustration of duty and truthful- 
ness, as exhibited in the fulfillment of a 
promise, may be added from the life of 
Blucher. When he was hastening with 1 is 
army over bad roads to the help of Wellmg- 
ton, on the i8th of June, 1815, he encour- 
aged his troops by words and gestures. 
" Forward, children — forward!" "It is im- 
possible; it can't be done," was the answer. 

Again and again he urged them. "Chil- 
dren, we must get on; you may say it can't 
be done, but it must be done! I have prom- 
ised my brother Wellington — promised, do 
you hear? You wouldn't have me break 
my word!" And it was done. 

Truth is the very bond of society, without 
which it must cease to exist, and dissolve 
into anarchy and chaos. A household can- 
not be governed by lying ; nor can a nation. 
Sir Thomas Browne asked, " Do the devils 
lie?" "No," was his answer; "for then 



236 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



even hell could not subsist." No considera- 
tions can justify the sacrifice of truth, which 
ought to be sovereign in all the relations of 
life. 

Of all mean vices, perhaps lying is the 
meanest. It is in some cases the offspring of 
perversity and vice, and in many others of 
sheer moral cowardice. Yet many persons 
think so lightly of it that they will order their 
servants to lie for them ; nor can they feel 
surprised if, after such ignoble instruction, 
they find their servants lying for themselves. 

Many Forms of Deception. 

•- Sir Harry Wotton's description of an ^ 
ambassador as "an honest man sent to lie 
abroad for the benefit of his country," though 
meant as a satire, brought him into disfavor 
'^ith' James I. when it became published ; for 
an Eidversary quoted it as a principle of the 
king's religion. • That it was not Wotton's 
real view of the duty of an honest man, is 
obvious from the lines, in which he eulogizes 
the man : 

"Whose armor is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill." 

But lying assumes many forms — such as 
diplomacy, expediency, and moral reserva- 
tion ; and, under one guise or another, it is 
found more or less pervading all classes of 
society. Sometimes it assumes the form of 
equiyocation or moral dodging — twisting and 
so stating the things said as to convey a false 
impression — a kind of lying which a French- 
mar^* once described as "walking round about 
the truth." 

Nobody likes deception. The moral sense 
of every community is shocked by it. In 
Salem, Mass., it was supposed that there 
were certain persons who, by the practice of 
the black art, or by being in league with the 
devil, had power to bewitch and deceive 



others. Those who were suspected were 
arrested, tried, and made to suffer for their 
supposed crime, the guilt of which may, in 
great measure, be laid on the shoulders of 
Cotton Mather, author of " Memorable Provi- 
dences Relating to Witchcraft and Posses- 
sions, and Wonders of the Invisible World." 
Nineteen persons were executed, among the 
six men one clergyman and Giles Corey, a 
man over eighty, who, refusing to plead, was 
pressed to death. 

All died protesting their innocence, and 
even those who had been terrified into con- 
fession withdrew it, although their honesty 
cost them their lives. Nor were the victims 
here at least abandoned by their friends. In 
all the trials of this kind there is nothing so 
pathetic, says Mr. Lowell, as the picture of 
Jonathan Cary holding up the weary arms of 
his wife during her trial, and wiping away 
the sweat from her brow and the tears from 
her face. 

All Discharged from Jail. 

A reaction speedily set in, and, though in 
January, 1693, three more were condemned, 
no more executions took place, and a few 
months after the governor discharged all the 
suspects from jail, as many as one hundred 
and fifty in number. One Samuel Parris, a 
clergyman, who had been one of the main 
instigators of the prosecutions, confessed his 
error, but was dismissed by his flock in 
1696, while even Cotton Mather acknowl- 
edged that there had been " a going too far 
in that affair." 

There are even men of narrow minds and 
dishonest natures, who pride themselves upon 
their cleverness in equivocation, in their 
serpent-wise shirking of the truth and get- 
ing out of moral back-doors, in order to 
hide their real opinions and evade the con- 
sequences of holding and openly professing 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



237 



them. Institutions or systems based upon 
any such expedients must necessarily prove 
false and hollow. "Though a lie be ever so 
well dressed," says George Herbert, "it is 
ever overcome." Downright lying, though 
bolder and more vicious, is even less con- 
temptible than such kind of shuffling and 
equivocation. 

Untruthfulness exhibits itself in many 
other forms : in reticency on the one hand, 
or exaggeration on the other; in disguise 
or concealment; in pretended concurrence 
in others' opinions; in assuming an attitude 
of conformity which is deceptive ; in making 
promises, or allowing them to be implied, 
which are never intended to be performed; 
or even in refraining from speaking the truth 
when to do so is a duty. 

The Man with a Double Face. 

There are also those who are all things to 
all men, who say one thing and do another, 
like Bunyan's Mr. Facing-both-ways ; only 
deceiving themselves when they think they 
are deceiving others — and who, being es- 
sentially insincere, fail to evoke confidence, 
and invariably in the end turn out failures, 
if not impostors. 

Others are untruthful in their pretentious- 
ness, and in assuming merits which they do 
not really possess. The truthful man is, on 
the contrary, modest, and makes no parade 
of himself and his deeds. When Pitt was in 
his last illness, the news reached England of 
the great deeds of Wellington in India. 
"The more I hear of his exploits," said Pitt, 
"the more I admire the modesty with which 
he receives the praises he merits for them. 
He is the only man I ever knew that was 
not vain of what he had done, and yet had 
so much reason to be so." 

So it is said of Faraday by Professor 
Tyndall, that "pretense of all kinds, whether 



in life or in philosophy, was hateful to him." 
Dr. Marshall Hall was a man of like spirit — 
courageously truthful, dutiful, and manly. 
One of his most intimate friends has said of 
him that, wherever he met with untruthful- 
ness or sinister motive, he would expose it, 
saying, "I neither will, nor can, give my 
consent to a he." The question, " right or 
wrong," once decided in his own mind, the 
right was followed, no matter what the sacri- 
fice or the difficulty — neither expediency nor 
inclination weighing one jot in the balance. 

Believed what was Told Him. 

There was no virtue that Dr. Arnold 
labored more sedulously to instill into young 
men than the virtue of truthfulness, as being 
the manliest of virtues, as, indeed, the very 
basis of all true manliness. He designated 
truthfulness as " moral transparency," and he 
valued it more highly than any other quality. 
When lying was detected, he treated it as a 
great moral offence ; but when a pupil made 
an assertion, he accepted it with confidence. 
"If you say so. that is quite enough; of 
course, I beheve your word." By thus trust- 
ing and believing them, he educated the 
young in truthfulness; the boys at length 
coming to say to one another: " It's a shame 
to tell Arnold a lie — he always believes one.'" 

There is no precept of the moral law that 
is more frequently and shamefully violated 
than that which forbids lying, and yet there 
is nothing about which people generally are 
so sensitive as a doubt of their veracity. 

The term liar is one of the most oppro- 
brious epithets which may be applied to a 
person, and its use has often been the cause 
of much mischief This expression is very 
frequently not only much misunderstood, but 
badly misused. And just here, it is impor- 
tant to remember that words are representa- 
tives of ideas, and if we use the wrong words 



238 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



to express our thoughts, we are liable to be 
misapprehended, and thus do ourselves and 
others injury. 

The following anecdote will illustrate the 
wrong use of terms. The celebrated John 
Wesley was on one occasion at table with 
some friends, when the lady of the house 
asked him to take another cup of tea. He 
declined then, but afterward, his appetite im- 
proving probably, he said he would be pleased 
to take another cup ; when she, with much 
surprise, replied that "she did not know be- 
fore that a minister would tell a lie." He 
answered that " he did not wish to tell a lie, 
but he thought that a minister might change 
his mind." Her difficulty arose from not 
knowing what was meant by a lie, and, there- 
fore, she was not only led into an act of gross 
impoliteness, bur also of great injustice to ?n 
excellent man. 

An Important Distinction. 

Few persons make a distinction between a 
lie and an untruth. That there is a most 
important difference may easily be perceived. 
An untruth may be defined as "an assertion 
that is contrary to the fact," while a lie is the 
" assertion of an untruth with an intention to 
deceive." A lie is always an untruth, but 
an untruth is not always a lie. A man, from 
ignorance or misunderstanding, may assert 
what is untrue and not violate the moral law ; 
but if what he says is contrary to the truth, 
and he knows it, he is guilty of lying. 

If my neighbor, for instance, shall say that 
America was discovered in 1620, he has 
made a misstatement, for such is not the 
truth, and it is plain that he has confounded 
the discovery of America with the landing of 
the Pilgrims. This he might have done 
without any intention to deceive : if, there- 
fore, I say to him, "you have stated the fact 
incorrectly," or " what you have stated is not 



true," do I charge him with lying ? Cer- 
tainly not. But if I tell him he lies, I mean' 
that the statement he made was false, and 
that he knew it. It is plain that in making 
so grave a charge as that a person lies, we 
mu.st have a clear and unquestionable proof, 
not only of the untruth, but also of the 
design to deceive. 

Ashamed to get Found Out. 

Nothing is easier with vulgar people tha» 
to use hard names ; first, because they are 
irritating, and such persons have no regard 
for the feelings of their neighbors ; and, 
secondly, because they have really little 
regard for truth. A truly honorable man is 
very sensitive in all matters which appear to- 
cast discredit upon his integrity or veracity, 
and, for this reason, the dishonorable man- 
affects a sensitiveness he really does not feel. 
The latter may lie, and cheat, and steal, and 
his distress arises, not from doing these dis- 
honorable acts, but in being discovered and 
told of it. 

itory is told of a man who had a quar- 
rel with a mathematician, and, after consider- 
able abuse, concluded by calling him a liar. 
Preserving his temper, the latter calmly 
replied, " You have called me a liar, which is 
a very grave charge against one who claims 
to be a gentleman. Now, if you can prove 
it, it must be true, and I shall be ashamed of 
myself; but if you cannot prove it, it is you 
who should be ashamed, because you state 
what is not true for purposes of mischief. 
It is you, then, who are the liar." 

As a lie is any intentional violation of the 
truth, it is plain that to make a lie it is not 
necessary to use spoken language ; it may be 
uttered in words, or signs, or gestures of the 
head, or motions of the body. A pupil may 
cough a He to deceive his teacher in school 
— in short, any means taken to create a false 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



239 



impression is a lie. The ways of doing this 
are too many to be named here. 

It is no less a lie when told by the old to 
the young, than by the young to the old ; 
by the parent to the child, than by the 
child to the parent. When the mother 
says to her little child, "The bears will 
catch you if you go into the street," she 
lies. She knows there are no bears there. 
Many children are taught to lie in this 
manner. 

A lie may be told by uttering only a part 
of the truth, and keeping back some facts 
which are necessary to a complete knowledge 
of the whole. Again, it may consist in an 
exaggeration or overstatement of facts. 
These are the most common forms of 
deception, and are as base as statements in 
which there is not a particle of truth. Nor 
does it matter whether the subject be import- 
ant or unimportant; a lie told as a joke is no 
less a lie because it is a joke, and a joking 
liar cannot be a gentleman. There can be 
no such thing as an innocent lie, or a harm- 
less Har. 

Difficult to Quote Exact Words. 

It is not unusual to hear persons attempt, 
not only to give the ideas expressed by 
another, but to state them in the precise 
language in which they were uttered. While 
it is very desirable to quote the very words 
that fall from another's lips, it is also very 
difficult, and very few persons have the 
natural ability or the cultivation to do it with 
entire accuracy. 

To illustrate to his school the necessity of 
absolute precision in the statement of words, 
and the difficulty of acquiring it, a teacher 
selected from the high school six of his most 
capable boys, whose average age was, per- 
haps, seventeen years. He explained the 
experiment he was about to make, and de- 



sired them to give it their close attention, in 
order, if possible, to repeat the words he was 
about to give them. The plan was to show 
Master A a short sentence written on a piece 
of paper, which he was requested to memo- 
rize and whisper to Master B, who, in turn, 
was to communicate it to Master C, and so 
on, till the last of the six should receive it,, 
and write it upon the blackboard. 

A Ludicrous Blunder. 

The boys were anxious to prove that they 
could tell a straight story when they applied 
their minds to it, especially, since a failure 
on this trial would show them to be inaccu- 
rate, and consequently unreliable ^n all 
ordinary statements, where no unusual efforts' 
were made to report correctly. The follow- 
ing sentence was prepared for the trial : 
"Maternal affection is an instinct which most- 
animals possess in common with man." 
After each boy had communicated the sen- 
tence to his neighbor, the last one wrote the- 
following, as his version : " Maternal affec- 
tion is an instinct which all animals possess 
except man." 

A comparison of these two sentences 
proves that it is a difficult feat of memory to 
repeat, even under favorable circumstances, 
any words uttered by another. Since these 
boys, selected for their smartness, accus- 
tomed to give attention as pupils, anxious tO' 
show their ability to hear exactly and repeat 
accurately, failed to make a true report ol 
thirteen words, how much more liable must 
ordinary persons be, under circumstances- 
less favorable, to report incorrectly the pre- 
cise words in a given conversation. 

A change of two or three words in the 
above experimental sentence makes the last 
boy state the very reverse of the sentiment 
expressed by the first one. How absurd it 
is to suppose that persons generally can 



240 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



reproduce the exact language of others, and 
how exceedingly cautious we should be in 
giving or receiving statements claiming to be 
so accurate. 

The following little poem will illustrate the 
inability of some persons to report words 
correctly, as spoken of in the preceding 
paragraph : 

"Said Gossip One to Gossip Two, 

While shopping in the town, 
' One Mrs. Pry to me remarked. 

Smith bought his goods of Brown.' 

"Says Gossip Two to Gossip Three, 

Who cast her eyelids down, 
'I've heard it said to-day, my friend, 
Smith got his goods from Brown.' 

"Says Gossip Three to Gossip Four, 

With something of a frown, 
'I've heard strange news — what do you think? 
Smith took his goods from Brown. ' 

" Says Gossip Four to Gossip Five, 
Who blazed it round the town, 
'I've heard to-day such shocking news — 
Smith stole his goods from Brown.' " 

Thus the innocent remark grew and 
changed. The same principle of evidence 
holds good with reference to things done as in 
words spoken. If we are likely to be inac- 
curate in the report of language, so we may fail 
to be correct in narrating what we see. If, by 
inattention, we hear erroneously, by the same 
neglect we may see imperfectly. Several 
persons may witness an exciting occurrence, 
and, while they agree as to the general facts, 
may differ very much in their statement of 
the separate incidents. One may see what 
entirely escaped the notice of another who 
had an equal opportunity for observation. 

Now, it is evident that, in giving testimony, 
they may disagree in many particulars, and 
yet each may state exactly the impressions 
made on his mind and be entirely truthful. 
If they differ, their disagreement is not neces- 



sarily an evidence of a want of veracity, but 
only a confirmation of the truth that two 
persons are rarely impressed by what they 
see in precisely the same way. 

A promise may be defined as "an agree- 
ment to do, or not to do, a certain thing." 
When such an engagement is made, the party 
or parties are in honor bound to fulfill it in 
its letter and spirit. As no one can look into 
the future to determine what may happen, 
the greatest care should be taken not to 
promise anything that he may not reason- 
ably expect to perform. 

The Intention to Deceive. 

If a boy promises his teacher, for instance, 
to prepare a given lesson by to-morrow, and 
willfully neglects the duty, he lies ; for the 
promise was made with an intention to 
deceive. If the promise was made in good 
faith and forgotten, he did not tell the 
truth, nor did he tell a lie, but his 
neglect to perform the work was a wrong 
to himself and his teacher, the repetition 
of which would result in a habit injurious 
to his character and reputation. 

If the promise was made with the intention 
of performing it, and in returning home he 
had fallen and broken his leg, so that it was 
impossible for him either to study or to return 
to school, he should not be held responsible, 
as he is not to blame for the non-performance 
of his agreement. 

From these illustrations it will be per- 
ceived that we have no right to promise 
what we are unable or unwilling to perform ; 
but if we make any engagement with the 
intention of keeping our word, and are pre- 
vented by circumstances we did not foresee, 
and could not control, we do no wrong. 
Every promise should be understood as 
depending upon providential circumstances. 

There are some promises which are made 



TRUTHFULNESS. 



241 



in good faith that ought never to be fulfilled. 
A boy agreed with his classmates to go to a 
neighboring orchard to steal apples. When 
the appointed time came, he determined not 
to go, for his conscience had whispered, 
"Thou shalt not steal," and he concluded to 
obey it. The boys jeered him for a coward, 
and claimed that as an honorable boy he 
should stick to his promise. 

Ke reasoned in this way : " Before I made 
this agreement, I was under obligations to 
God and man not to steal. I had no right 
to promise to do wrong. My first duty was 
to obey God, and while it was wrong to make 
the promise, it would be a greater wrong to 
keep it, therefore I shall not go." If this 
reasoning be correct, it is wrong to promise 
to do wrong, and therefore such a promise 
is not morally binding. 

How Much for a Lie? 

If we are under no moral obligation to 
fulfill a promise made to do a wrong, there 
can be no dishonor in refusing its perform- 
ance. Dishonor belongs to those who 
persist in doing wrong after thej^ have dis- 
covered the right. 

"Would you tell a lie for three cents?" 
asked a teacher of one of her boys. " No, 
ma'am," answered Dick, very promptly. 
"For ten cents?" "No, ma'am." "For 
a dollar?" "No, ma'am." "For a hun- 
dred dollars?" "No, ma'am." "For a 
thousand dollars?" 

Here Dick was staggered. A thousand 
dollars looked hke such a very big sum. 
Oh ! what lots of things he could buy with 
a thousand dollars. While he was thinking 
about it, and trying to make up his mind 
whether it would pay to tell a lie for a thou- 
sand dollars, a boy behind him cried out : 
"No, ma'am." "Why not?" asked the 
teacher. 

16 



Now, mark this boy's answer, and do not 
forget it. "Because, ma'am," said he, '^ the 
lie sticks. When the thousand dollars are 
all gone, and the good things bought with 
them are all gone, too, the lie is there all the 
same." 

And when we tell a lie we never can tell 
where the injury that springs from it will 
stop. It is just like loosening a great rock 
at the top of a mountain and letting it go 
rolling and plunging down the side of the 
mountain. Nobody can tell how far it will 
go, nor how much injury it will do before it 
stops rolling. 

A Wild Beast let Loose. 

Telling a lie is like letting a wild beast ou/" 
of a cage. You can never tell how man^ 
people that animal will wound or kill 
before he is caught again. Telling a lie 
is like dropping sparks in powder. It is 
sure to make an explosion, and no one 
can tell beforehand how much harm that 
it will do. 

Truthfulness, integrity and goodness — 
qualities that hang not on any man's breath 
— form the essence of manly character, or, as 
one of our old writers has it, " that inbred 
loyalty unto virtue which can serve her 
without a livery." He who possesses these 
qualities, united with strength of purpose, 
carries with him a power which is irresistible. 
He is strong to do good, strong to resist evil, 
and strong to bear up under difficulty and 
misfortune. When Stephen of Colonna fell 
into the hands of his base assailants, and they 
asked him in deri.sion, "Where is now your 
fortress?" "Here," was his bold reply, 
placing his hand upon his heart. It is in 
misfortune that the character of the upright 
man shines forth with the greatest luster; 
and when all else fails, he takes his stand 
upon his integrity and his courage. 



CHAPTER XIV. 
PERSEVERANCE. 




N old negro preacher is reported 
to have said to his congrega- 
tion : " Bredren, you must per- 
severe. Maybe you don't know 
what that is ; so I will tell you. 
To persevere is to take hold, 
hang on, and not let go." 

This is what all men have done who have 
carried out their purposes. Cyrus W. Field 
determined to connect the old world and the 
new by telegraph. People laughed at him, 
called him "visionary," a "fool," and a fit 
subject for a lunatic asylum. The sneers 
and jeers of staid men who pronounced him 
a fool and a fit candidate for a straight-jacket, 
did not drive him from the straight line of 
duty. With interminable industry and un- 
conquerable perseverance he pursued the 
object of his ambition. 

The stock of the Atlantic Telegraph Com- 
pany was hawked about the streets and 
became the sport of speculators. When his 
house went down in the commercial crisis, 
grave men attributed the failure to the vision- 
ary character of Mr. Field; but he had a 
heart that never failed — a capital stock of 
hope and courage that carried him safely 
through all this tumult of opposition. The 
reverses of fortune — the entreaties of friends 
—the opposition of enemies — the ridicule of 
conceited wiseacres — the untoward events of 
the great enterprise — the backing out of direc- 
tors — the resistance of the winds and the 
waves, did not dishearten him. 

He believed that an all-wise and over- 
ruling Providence would direct him; indeed. 



he remarked to the Rev. Dr. Adanas, of New 
York, that he believed God would prosper 
him in his effort, and earnestly entreated to 
be remembered at the altar of private and 
public worship. 

Is it possible to conceive a spectacle more 
sublime than that which is presented in the 
eventful history of this remarkable man? A 
mere boy he embarks in business and is 
prostrated by the mismanagement or mis- 
calculations of his seniors, but he falls only 
to rebound higher than before. A great 
thought troubles him — he wishes to embody 
it into a deed and unite the old world with 
the new; so he asks the Congress of the 
United States to assist him ; and after a vast 
deal of congressional gas had been consumed 
his request is begrudgingly granted. 

A Great Achievement. 

He crosses the ocean, forms a company, 
raises a fund, obtains the assistance of two 
nations, and with his cable on the war-ships 
he links the continents. Now where are the 
Wall street brokers who made his paper the 
sport of street speculations? Where is the 
little snob who refused to honor his drafts? 
Where are the human sharks who had opened 
their mouths and sharpened their teeth to 
devour him ? Where are the snarling critics 
who predicted his utter failure and held him 
personally responsible for every change in 
the weather and every flaw in the cable? 
They are nowhere, and Field is one of the 
most honored men of the age. He worked 
a iiiiracle, and the generations of men will 

243 



244 



PERSEVERANCE. 



lienor his memory through all future time 
and rehearse his achievements. 

The old world and the new are now next- 
door neighbors. The lightning is a messen- 
ger, constantly crossing the sea on a bridge 
of wire, with personal and public intelligence. 
The civilized peoples are grouped within hail- 
ing signals by the genius and energy of this 
persevering and inspired Yankee. Xerxes 
attempted to chain the waves, and failed. 
Our "Cyrus," with a chain of Hghtning, 
made the ocean do his bidding, and carry 
his torch from sea to sea, and from shore to 
shore, without putting out the light. 

Pressed toward his Mark. 

Perseverance always wins. The writer of 
these lines was once a member of the Legis- 
lature of Connecticut. A short time before 
the session was to commence a young man 
called on him one evening and stated that he 
was a candidate for the position of clerk of 
the House and was trying to secure the votes 
of the members. He was a bright, quick, 
gentlemanly young man of good appearance 
and evidently of good breeding. He was 
told that another candidate, one who had 
already been assistant clerk, was sure to be 
appointed, that the matter was really settled 
and he had no chance whatever to secure the 
appointment. 

He replied, " What you say may be true ; 
I have heard it from others, still, I doubt it. 
]3ut I'm not discouraged ; if I can't secure 
the appointment, I can at least have the 
pleasure of working for it." 

The reply was so manly and showed so 
much pluck and determination that I could 
not help wishing him success. He was not 
in the least dismayed at the sure prospect of 
defeat. He "had the pleasure of working" 
for his object, but was defeated. His spirit, 
energy, manliness^ capability, impressed all 



he met, and he held steadily to his aim. He 
was grandly resolute in his determination to 
finally succeed. And afterward he did suc- 
ceed and gained the prize he sought. He 
had to wait and work. He could do both, 
and because he could wait and work, and 
could press steadily toward his mark, he 
reached the goal of his ambition. 

Perseverance doesn't get thrown into a 
panic ; it is not subject to fainting fits. In 
its book of tactics there is no such word 
as retreat. "Forward" is on every page, 
but there is no "retreat." It burns the 
bridges it has crossed. It knows nothing 
about backward movements. It doesn't 
run at the sight of a foe. It halts only 
to get breath. It rests only to rise in 
greater strength. It may have to go slowly, 
but it goes. Mountains of difficulty may be 
against it, but it knows how to climb ; now 
it is on the other side. A man who cannot 
persevere is too weak, nerveless, limpsy, for 
this rough, go-ahead age. He is sure to be 
left. 

■Working and Winning. 
Dreamers and idlers are all around us. 
They wish to do nothing and yet accom- 
plish wonders. They would go to sleep and 
wake up rich. They would thrust their hands 
in their pockets and become millionaires. 
They dream of chances, great schemes, lucky 
ventures, miraculous investments. They are 
failures, dismal failures. They eat dinners 
and wear clothes because someone else earns 
the dinners for them and pays for the 
clothes". There is an army of these idlers, 
these do-nothings who are always " waiting 
for something to turn up." They have yet 
to learn that work and perseverance, " taking 
hold and hanging on and not letting go," 
is the only way for going to sleep and waking 
up rich. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



The greatest results in life are usually- 
attained by simple means, and the exercise 
of ordinary qualities. The common life of 
every day, with its cares, necessities and 
duties, affords ample opportunity for acquir- 
ing experience of the best kind ; and its most 
beaten paths provide the true worker with 
abundant scope for effort and room for self- 
improvement. The road of human welfare 
lies along the old highway of steadfast well- 
doing; and they who are the most persistent, 
and work in the truest spirit, will usually be 
the most successful. 

Fortune has often been blamed for her 
blindness ; but fortune is not so blind as men 
are. Those who look into practical life will 
find that fortune is usually on the side of the 
industrious, as the winds and waves are on 
the side of the best navigators. In the pur- 
suit of even the highest branches of human 
inquiry, the commoner qualities are found 
the most useful — such as common sense, at- 
tention, application and perseverance. Genius 
may not be necessary, though even genius 
of the highest sort does not disdain the use 
of these ordinary qualities. 

Light your own Fire. 

The very greatest men have been among 
the least believers in the power of genius, 
and as worldly-wise and persevering as suc- 
cessful men of the commoner sort. Some 
have even defined genius to be only common 
sense intensified. A distinguished teacher 
and president of a college spoke of it as the 
power of making efforts. John Foster held 
it to be the power of lighting one's own fire. 
Buffon said of genius, "It is patience." 

Newton's was unquestionably a mind of 
the very highest order, and yet, when asked 
by what means he had worked out his ex- 
traordinary discoveries, he modestly an- 
swered, "By always thinking unto them." 



At another time he thus expressed his 
method of study : " I keep the subject con- 
tinually before me, and wait till the first 
dawnings open slowly by little and little into 
a full and clear light." It was in Newton's 
case, as in every other, only by diligent 
application and perseverance that his great 
reputation was achieved. Even his recrea- 
tion consisted in change of study, laying 
down one subject to take up another. To 
Dr. Bently he said: "If I have done the 
public any service, it is due to nothing but 
industry and patient thought." 

No Genius without Labor. 

So Kepler, another great philosopher,, 
speaking of his studies and his progress, 
said : " I brooded with the whole energy of 
my mind upon the subject." 

The extraordinary results effected by dint 
of sheer industry and perseverance, have led 
many distinguished men to doubt whether 
the gift of genius be so exceptional an endow- 
ment as it is usually supposed to be. Thus 
Voltaire held that it is only a very slight line 
of separation that divides the man of genius 
from the man of ordinary mold. Beccaria 
v/as even of the opinion that all men might 
be poets and orators, and Reynolds that they 
might be painters and sculptors. 

Locke, Helvetius and Diderot believed 
that all men have an equal aptitude for 
genius, and that what some are able to 
effect under the laws which regulate the 
operations of the intellect, must also be 
within the reach of others who, under 
like circumstances, apply themselves to like 
pursuits. But while admitting to the fullest 
extent the wonderful achievements of labor^ 
and recognizing the fact that men of most 
distinguished genius have invariably been 
found the most indefatigable workers, it 
must, nevertheless, be sufficiently obvious 



246 



PERSEVERANCE. 



that, without the original endowment of 
heart and brain, no amount of labor, how- 
ever well applied, could have produced a 
Shakespeare, a Newton, a Beethoven, or a 
Michael An gelo. 

Dalton, the chemist, repudiated the notion 
of his being "a genius," attributing every- 
thing which he had accompHshed to simple 
industry and accumulation. John Hunter 
said of himself: "My mind is like a bee- 
hive ; but full as it is of buzz and apparent 
confusion, it is yet full of order and regular- 
ity, and food collected with incessant industry 
from the choicest stores of nature." 

Turning all things to Gold. 

We have, indeed, but to glance at the 
biographies of great men to find that the 
most distinguished inventors, artists, thinkers 
and workers of all kinds, owe their success, 
in a great measure, to their indefatigable 
industry and application. They were men 
who turned all things to gold — even time 
itself Disraeli the elder held that the secret 
of success consisted in being master of your 
subject, such mastery being attainable only 
through continuous application and study. 

Hence it happens that men who have 
most moved the world have not been so 
much men of genius, strictly so called, as 
men of intense mediocre abilities, and untir- 
ing perseverance ; not so often the gifted, of 
naturally bright and shining qualities, as 
those who have applied themselves diligently 
to their work, in whatsoever Hne that might 
lie. "Alas ! " said a widow, speaking of her 
brilliant but careless son, "he has not the 
gift of continuance." Wanting in persever- 
ance, such volatile natures are outstripped in 
the race of life by the diligent and even the 
dull. Says the Italian proverb : who goes 
slowly, goes long, and goes far. 

Hence, a great point to be aimed at is to 



get the working quality well trained. When 
that is done, the race will be found compara- 
tively easy. We must repeat and again 
repeat ; facility will come with labor. Not 
even the simplest art can be accomplished 
without it ; and what difficulties it is found 
capable of overcoming ! 

It was by early discipline and repetiton 
that Sir Robert Peel cultivated those remark- 
able, though still mediocre powers, which 
rendered him so illustrious an ornament of 
the British Senate. When a boy at Drayton 
Manor, his father was accustomed to set him 
up at table to practice speaking extempore ; 
and he early accustomed him to repeat as 
much of the Sunday's sermon as he could 
remember. Little progress was made at first, 
but by steady perseverance the habit of 
attention became powerful, and the sermon 
was at length repeated almost verbatim. 

Training the Memory. 

When afterward replying in succession to 
the arguments of his parliamentary oppo- 
nents — an art in which he was perhaps 
unrivaled — it was little surmised that the 
extraordinary power of accurate remembrance 
which he displayed on such occasions had 
been originally trained under the discipline 
of his father in the parish church of Drayton. 

It is indeed marvelous what continuous 
application will effect in the commonest of 
things. It may seem a simple affair to play 
upon a violin ; yet what a long and labor- 
ious practice it requires ! Giardini said to a 
youth who asked him how long it would take 
to learn it, " Twelve hours a day for twenty 
years together." 

Progress, however, of the best kind, is 
comparatively slow. Great results can not 
be achieved at once ; and we must be satis- 
fied to advance in life as we walk, step by 
step. De Maistre says that "To know how 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



to wait is the great secret of success." We 
must sow before we can reap, and often have 
to wait long, content meanwhile to look 
patiently forward in hope ; the fruit best 
worth waiting for often ripening the slowest. 
But "time and patience," says the Eastern 
proverb, " change the mulberry leaf to satin." 

The Chief Pleasure. 

To wait patiently, however, men must 
work cheerfully. Cheerfulness is an excel- 
lent working quality, imparting great elas- 
ticity to the character. As a bishop has 
said, "Temper is nine-tenths of Christian- 
ity;" so are cheerfulness and diligence nine- 
tenths of practical wisdom. They are the 
life and soul of success, as well as of happi- 
ness ; perhaps the very highest pleasure in 
life consisting in clear, brisk, conscious work- 
ing ; energy — confidence and every other 
good quality mainly depending upon it. 
Sydney Smith, when laboring in Yorkshire 
— though he did not feel himself to be in his 
proper element — went cheerfully to work in 
the iirm determination to do his best. " I 
am resolved," he said, "to like it, and recon- 
cile myself to it, which is more manly than 
to feign myself above it, and to send up com- 
plaints by the post of being thrown away, 
and being desolate, and such Hke trash." 

So Dr. Hook, when leaving Leeds for a 
new sphere of labor, said, "Wherever I may 
be, I shall, by God's blessing, do with my 
might what my hand findeth to do ; and if I 
do not find work, I shall make it." 

Laborers for the public good especially, 
have to work long and patiently, often 
uncheered by the prospect of immediate 
recompense or result. The seeds they sow 
sometimes lie hidden under the winter's 
snow, and before the spring comes the hus- 
bandman may have gone to his rest. It is 
not every public worker who, like Rowland 



247 
forth fruit in 



Hill, sees his great idea bring 
his lifetime. 

Adam Smith sowed the seeds of a great 
social amelioration in that dingy old Univer- 
sity of Glasgow where he so long labored, 
and laid the foundations of his " Wealth of 
Nations ; " but seventy years passed before 
his work bore substantial fruits, nor indeed 
are they all gathered in yet. 

Nothing can compensate for the loss of 
hope in a man : it entirely changes the char- 
acter. "How can I work — how can I be 
happy," said a great but miserable thinker, 
"when I have lost all hope ? " One of the 
most cheerful and courageous, because one 
of the most hopeful of workers, was Carey, 
the missionary. When in India it was no 
uncommon thing for him to weary out three 
pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one 
day, he himself taking rest only in change of 
employment. 

Poor Young Men Helping Another. 

Carey, the son of a shoemaker, was sup- 
ported in his labors by Ward, the son of a 
carpenter, and Marsham, the son of a weaver. 
By their labor a magnificent college was 
erected at Serampore; sixteen flourishing 
stations were established; the Bible was 
translated into sixteen languages, and the 
seeds were sown of a beneficient moral revo- 
lution in British India. Carey was never 
ashamed of the humbleness of his origin. 
On one occasion, when at the Governor- 
General's table, he overheard an officer 
opposite him asking another, loud enough 
to be heard, whether Carey had not once 
been a shoemaker : " No, sir," exclaimed 
Carey, immediately; "only a cobbler." 

An eminently characteristic anecdote has 
been told of his perseverance as a boy. When 
climbing a tree one day, his foot slipped, and 
he fell to the ground, breaking his leg by the 



248 



PERSEVERANCE. 



fall. He was confined to his bed for weeks, 
but when he recovered and was able to walk 
without support, the very first thing he did 
was to go and climb that tree. Carey had 
need of this sort of dauntless courage for the 
great missionary work of his life, and nobly 
and resolutely he did it. 

It was a maxim of Dr. Young, the phil- 
osopher, that "Any man can do what any 
other man has done;" and it is unquestion- 
able that he himself never recoiled from any 
trials to which he determined to subject him- 
self. It is related of him, that the first time 
he mounted a horse the horseman who pre- 
ceded him leaped a high fence. Young 
wished to imitate him, but fell off his horse 
in the attempt. Without saying a word, he 
remounted, made a second effort, and was 
again unsuccessful, but this time he was not 
thrown further than onto the horse's neck, 
to which he clung. At the third trial he 
succeeded, and cleared the fence. 

A Treasure Lost, 

The story of Timour the Tartar learning a 
lesson of perseverance under adversity from 
the spider is well known. Not less interest- 
ing is the anecdote of Audubon, our Ameri- 
can ornithologist, as related by himself. "An 
accident," he says, "which happened to two 
hundred of my original drawings, nearly put 
a stop to my researches in ornithology. I 
shall relate it, merely to show how far enthu- 
siasm — for by no other name can I call my 
perseverance — may enable the preserver of 
nature to surmount the most disheartening 
difficulties. 

" I left the village of Henderson, in Ken- 
tucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, 
where I resided for several years, to proceed 
to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my 
drawings before my departure, placed them 
carefully in a wooden box, and gave them in 



charge of a relative, with injunctions to see 
that no injury should happen to them. My 
absence was of several months ; and when I 
returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures 
of home for a few days, I inquired after my 
box, and what I was pleased to call my 
treasure. 

"The box was produced and opened; but, 
reader, feel for me — a pair of Norway rats 
had taken possession of the whole, and reared 
a young family among the gnawed bits of 
paper, which, but a month previous, repre- 
sented nearly a thousand inhabitants of the 
air ! The burning heat which instantly rushed 
through my brain was too great to be endured 
without affecting my whole nervous system. 

" I slept for several nights, and the days 
passed like days of oblivion — until the animal 
powers being recalled into action through the 
strength of my constitution, I took up my 
gun, my note-book and my pencils, and went 
forth to the woods as gayly as if nothing had 
happened. I felt pleased that I might now 
make better drawings than before ; and, ere 
a period not exceeding three years had 
elapsed, my portfoHo was again filled." 

The Work of Years Destroyed. 

The accidental destruction of Sir Isaac 
Newton's papers, by his little dog "Dia- 
mond" upsetting a lighted taper upon his 
desk, by which the elaborate calculations of 
many years were in a moment destroyed, is 
a well-known anecdote, and need not be 
repeated : it is said that the loss caused the 
philosopher such profound grief that it seri- 
ously injured his health and impaired his 
understanding, but did not turn him from 
his purpose. 

An accident of a somewhat similar kind 
happened to the manuscript of Mr. Carlyle's 
first volume of his "French Revolution." 
He had lent the manuscript to a literary 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



249 



neighbor to peruse. By some mischance it 
had been left lying on the parlor floor and 
become forgotten. Weeks ran on, and the 
historian sent for his work, the printers being 
loud for "copy." Inquiries were made, and 
it was faund that the maid of all work, find- 
ing what she conceived to be a bundle of 
waste-paper on the floor, had used it to light 
the kitchen and parlor fires with ! Such was 
the answer returned to Mr. Carlyle, and his 
feelings may be imagined. 

An Instance of Perseverance. 

There was, however, no help for him but 
to set resolutely to work to re-write the 
book ; and he turned to and did it. He had 
no draft, and was compelled to rake up from 
his memory facts, ideas, and expressions 
which had been long since dismissed. The 
composition of the book in the first instance 
had been a work of pleasure ; the re-writing 
of it a second time was one of pain and 
anguish almost beyond belief. That he per- 
severed and finished the volume under such 
circumstances affords an instance of determi- 
nation of purpose which has seldom been 
surpassed. 

The lives of eminent inventors are emi- 
nently illustrative of the same quality of 
perseverance. George Stephenson, when 
addressing young men, was accustomed to 
sum up his best advice to them in the words, 
"Do as I have done — persevere." He had 
worked at the improvement of his locomo- 
tive for some fifteen years before achieving 
his decisive victory ; and Watt was engaged 
for some thirty years upon the condensing- 
engine before he brought it to perfection. 
But there are equally striking illustrations of 
perseverance to be found in every other 
branch of science, art and industry. Perhaps 
one of the most interesting is that connected 
with the disentombment of the Nineveh 



Marbles, and the discovery of the long-lost 
cuneiform or arrow-headed character in which 
the inscriptions on them are written — a kind 
of writing which had been lost to the world! 
since the period of the Macedonian conquest 
of Persia. 

An intelligent cadet of the East India 
Company, stationed at Kermanshah, in Persia,, 
had observed the curious cuneiform inscrip- 
tions on the old monuments in the neighbor- 
hood — so old that all historical traces of 
them had been lost — and among the inscrip- 
tions which he copied was that on the 
celebrated rock of Behistun — a perpendicular 
rock rising abruptly some 1,700 feet from 
the plain, the lower part bearing inscriptions 
for the space of about 300 feet in three lan- 
guages — Persian, Scythian and Assyrian. 

A Great Discovery. 

Comparison of the known with the un- 
known, of the language which survived with 
the language that had been lost, enabled this 
cadet to acquire some knowledge of the 
cuneiform character, and even to form an 
alphabet. Mr. (afterward Sir Henry) Rawl- 
inson sent his tracings home for examination. 
No professors in colleges as yet knew any- 
thing of the cuneiform character ; but there 
was a clerk of the East India House — a 
modest unknown man of the name of Norris 
— who had made this little-understood subject 
his study, to whom the tracings were sub- 
mitted ; and so accurate was his knowledge, 
that, though he had never seen the Behistun 
rock, he pronounced that the cadet had not 
copied the puzzling inscription with proper 
exactness. 

Rawlinson, who was still in the neighbor- 
hood of the rock, compared his copy with 
the original, and found that Norris was right; 
and by further comparison and careful study 
the knowledge of the cuneiform writing was 



L 



250 



PERSEVERANCE. 



thus greatly advanced, and the world was 
made to v/onder. 

But to make the learning of these two 
self-taught men of avail, a third laborer was 
necessary in order to supply them with 
material for the exercise of their skill. Such 
a laborer presented himself in the person of 
Austen Layard, originally a clerk in the 
office of a London solicitor. One would 
scarcely have expected to find in these three 
men, a cadet, an India-House clerk, and a 
lawyer's clerk, the discoverers of a forgotten 
language, and of the buried history of 
Babylon ; yet it was so. 

Digging up a Buried City. 

Layard was a youth of only twenty-two, 
traveling in the East, when he was possessed 
with a desire to penetrate the regions beyond 
the Euphrates. Accompanied by a single 
companion, trusting to his arms for protec- 
tion, and, what was better, to his cheerfulness, 
politeness, and chivalrous bearing, he passed 
safely amid tribes at deadly war with each 
other ; and, after the lapse of many years, 
with comparatively slender means at his 
command, but aided by application and per- 
severance, resolute will and purpose, and 
almost sublime patience — borne up through- 
out by his passionate enthusiasm for discovery 
and research — he succeeded in laying bare 
and digging up an amount of historical treas- 
ures, the like of which has probably never 
before been collected by the industry of any 
one man. 

Not less than two miles of bas-reliefs were 
thus brought to light by Mr. Layard. The 
selection of these valuable antiquities, now 
placed in the British Museum, was found so 
curiously corroborative of the scriptural 
records of events which occurred some three 
thousand years ago, that they burst upon 
the world almost like a new revelation. And 



the story of the disentombment of these re- 
markable works, as told by Mr. Layard 
himself in his "Monuments of Nineveh," will 
always be regarded as one of the most 
charming and unaffected records which we 
possess of individual enterprise, industry and 
energy. 

The career of Buffon, the celebrated writer 
on natural history, presents another remark- 
able illustration of the power of patient indus- 
try, as well as of his own saying, that " Genius 
is patience." Notwithstanding the great re- 
sults achieved by him in natural history, 
Buffon, when a youth, was regarded as of 
mediocre talents. His mind was slow in 
forming itself, and slow in reproducing what 
it had acquired. He was also constitution- 
ally indolent ; and being born to good estate, 
it might be supposed that he would indulge 
his liking for ease and luxury. Instead of 
which, he early formed the resolution of 
denying himself pleasure, and devoting him- 
self to study and self-culture. 

Morning Laziness. 

Regarding time as a treasure that was 
limited, and finding that he was losing many 
hours by lying abed in the mornings, he 
determined to break himself of the habit 
He struggled hard against it for some time^ 
but failed in being able to rise at the hour he 
had fixed. He then called his servant, 
Joseph, to his help, and promised him the 
reward of a crown every time that he suc- 
ceeded in getting him up before six. At 
first, when called, Buffon declined to rise — 
pleaded that he was ill, or pretended anger 
at being disturbed; and, on finally getting 
up, Joseph found that he had earned nothing 
but reproaches for having permitted his mas- 
ter to lie abed contrary to his express orders. 

At length the valet deterrnined to earn his 
crown ; and again and again he forced Buffon 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



251 



to rise, notwithstanding his entreaties, expos- 
tulations and threats of immediate discharge 
from his service. One morning Buffon was 
unusually obstinate, and Joseph found it 
necessary to resort to the extreme measure 
of dashing a basin of ice-cold water under 
the bedclothes, the effect of which was in- 
stantaneous. By the persistent use of such 
means, Buffon at length conquered his habit, 
and he was accustomed to say that he owed 
to Joseph three or four volumes of his Natu- 
ral History. 

Make Your Mark. 
In the quarries should you toil, 

Make }-our mark ; 
Do }'ou delve upon the soil. 

Make your mark ; 
In whatever path you go. 

In whatever place 3-ou stand. 
Moving swift or moving slow. 
With a firm and honest hand. 
Make your mark. 

Should opponents hedge your way, 

Make your mark ; 
Work by night or work by day, 

Make your mark ; 
Struggle manfully and well, 

Let no obstacle oppose ; 
None, right-shielded, ever fell, 
By the weapons of his foes ; 
Make your mark. 

What though born a peasant's son, 

Make your mark ; 
Good by poor men can be done, 

Make your mark ; 
Peasants' garbs may warm the cold, 
Peasants' words may calm a fear ; 
Better far than hoarding gold. 
Is the drying of a tear ; 
Make your mark. 

Life is fleeting as a shade, ' 

Make your mark ; 
Marks of some kind must be made, 

Make your mark ; 
Make it while the arm is strong. 
In the golden hours of youth ; 
Never, never make it wrong 

Make it with the stamp of truth ; 
Make your mark. 

David Barker. 



If a man loses lus property at thirty or 
forty years of age, it is only a sharp disci- 
pline generally, by which later he comes to 
large success. It is all folly for a man or 
woman to sit down in mid-life discouraged. 
The marshals of Napoleon came to their 
commander and said; "We have lost the 
battle and we are being cut to pieces." 
Napoleon took his watch from his pocket, 
and said : " It is only two o'clock in the 
afternoon. You have lost the battle, but we 
have time to win another. Charge upon the 
foe 1 " Let our readers Avho have been 
unsuccessful thus far in the battle of life not 
give up in despair. With energy and God's 
blessing they may yet win a glorious victory. 

Discouragements of Columbus. 

Let those who are disposed to faint under 
difficulties, in the prosecution of any great 
and worthy undertaking, remember that 
eighteen years elapsed after the time that 
Columbus conceived his enterprise before he 
was enabled to carry it into effect ; that the 
greater part of that time was passed in almost 
hopeless solicitation, amid poverty, neglect, 
and taunting ridicule ; that the prime of his 
life had wasted away in the struggle, and 
that when his perseverance was finally 
crowned with success, he was about in his 
fifty-sixth year. His example should encour- 
age the enterprising never to despair. 

Not one man in a thousand who puts on 
his rubber overshoes and waterproof knows 
the story of the remarkable man who spent 
time, money and the most persevering labor 
to perfect his inventions. But Charles Good- 
year was a man who, having undertaken a 
thing, could not give it up. He struggled 
on for five years — in debt, with a family, and 
exposed to the derision or reproaches of his 
friends. * Several times he was in New Haven 
jail for debt. 



252 



PERSEVERANCE. 



He sold his effects, he pawned his trinkets, 
he borrowed from his acquaintances, he re- 
duced himself and his young family to the 
severest straits. When he could no longer 
buy wood to melt the rubber with, his chil- 
dren used to go out into the fields and pick 
up sticks for the purpose. Always suppos- 
ing himself to be on the point of succeeding, 
he thought the quickest way to get his family 
out of their misery was to stickto India rubber. 
He did what he aimed to do, but it cost him 
years of poverty and toil. This one man's 
perseverance produced one of the most 
important articles of trade. 

Never Give up the Ship. 

During the battle between the fleets of 
William HI. and Louis XIV., in 1692, 
Carter, rear-admiral of the Blue, broke the 
French line at the onset and was mortally 
wounded, and dying, exclaimed, " Fight the 
ship as long as she can swim ! " The victory 
was complete, the French flying in every 
direction. The French were attempting an 
invasion of England. 

Sertorious' army being defeated by the 
barbarians, he endeavored to rouse them up 
out of their despondence. For which pur- 
pose, a kw days after, he assembled all his 
forces, and produced two horses before them ; 
the one old and feeble, the other large and 
strong, and remarkable beside for a fine flowing 
tail. By the poor weak horse stood a robust, 
able-bodied man, and by the strong horse 
stood a little man of a very contemptible 
appearance. 

Upon a signal given, the strong man began 
to pull and drag about the weak horse by 
the tail, as if he would pull it off; and the 
little man to pluck off the hairs of the great 
horse's tail, one by one. The former tugged 
and toiled a long time to the great diversion 
of the spectators, and at last was forced to 



give up the point ; the latter, without any 
difficulty, soon stripped the great horse's tail 
of all its hair. 

Then Sertorius rose up and said : " You 
see, my friends and fellow-soldiers, how much- 
greater are the effects of perseverance than 
those of force, and that there are many 
things invincible in their collective capacity 
and in a state of union which may gradually 
be overcome, when they are once separated. 
In short, perseverance is irresistible. By this 
means time attacks and destroys the strongest 
things upon earth. Time, I say, who is the 
best friend and ally to those that have the 
discernment to use it properly, and watch the 
opportunities it presents, and the worst enemy 
to those who will be rushing into action when 
It does not call them." 

Fighting for a Tombstone. 

Says Gibbon: "The enthusiasm of the 
first crusade is a natural and simple event, 
while hope was fresh, danger untried, and 
enterprise congenial to the spirit of the 
times. But the obstinate perseverance of 
Europe may indeed excite our pity and 
admiration; that no instruction should have 
been drawn from constant and adverse- 
experience; that the same confidence should 
have repeatedly grown from the same fail- 
ures; that six succeeding generations should 
have rushed headlong down the precipice 
that was open before them ; and that men of 
every condition should have staked their 
public and private fortunes on the desperate 
adventure of possessing or recovering a 
tombstone two thousand miles from their 
country." 

Benjamin Disraeli was a striking example 
of patience and pluck. There was some 
curiosity respecting his dedut as an orator. 
The gentlemen of the House of Commons- 
expected that Disraeli would make a fooL 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



253 



k 



of himself; and he did not disappoint them. 
His first effort was a ludicrous failure — his 
maiden speech being received with " loud 
bursts of laughter." The newspapers said 
of him that he went up like a rocket and 
came down like a stick. 

Writhing under the shouts of laughter 
which had drowned so much of his studied 
eloquence, he exclaimed, in almost a savage 
voice, "I have begun several times many 
things, and have often succeeded at last. I 
shall sit down now, but the time will come 
when you will hear me." He afterward 
became Prime Minister of England. 

The First Steamboat. 

The same lesson is illustrated in the life 
of John Fitch. He, too, perseivered. We 
cannot begin to relate the obstacles he en- 
countered. A considerable volume would 
scarcely afford the requisite space. Poor, 
ragged and forlorn, jeered at, pitied as a 
madman, discouraged by the great, refused 
by the rich, he and his few friends kept on, 
until, in 1790, they had a steamboat running 
on the Delaware, which was the first steam- 
boat ever constructed that answered the 
purpose of one. It ran, with the tide, eight 
miles an hour, and six miles against it. 

A few years ago one of the most famous 
and popular of our American preachers was 
Dr. Nathan Bangs; when he began his 
career he became despondent because of the 
numerous difficulties he experienced and the 
absence of desired success, and resolved to 
abandon the ministry. A significant dream 
relieved him. He thought he was working 
with a pickaxe on the top of a basaltic rock. 
His muscular arm brought down stroke after 
stroke for hours, but the rock was hardly 
indented. 

He said to himself at last, " It is useless ; 
I will pick no more." Suddenly a stranger 



of dignified mien stood by his side and 
spoke to him. "You will pick no more?" 
"No more." "Were you not set to this 
task?" "Yes." "And why abandon it?" 
"My work is vain; I make no impression 
on the rock." 

Solemnly the stranger replied, "What is 
that to you ? Your duty is to pick, whether 
the rock yields or not. Your work is in 
your own hands; the result is not. Work 
on ! " He resumed his task. The first blow 
was given with almost superhuman force, 
and the rock flew into a thousand pieces. 
He awoke, pursued his way back with fresh 
zeal and energy, and a great revival followed. 
From that day he never had even a "temp- 
tation" to give up his commission. 

The Famous Grecian Orator. 

No ancient example of perseverance is 
more interesting than that of the great Gre- 
cian orator, Demosthenes. The first essay 
of his eloquence was against his guardians, 
whom he obliged to refund a part of his for- 
tune. Encouraged by this success, he ven- 
tured to speak before the people, but with 
very ill fortune. He had a weak voice, an 
impediment in his speech, and a very short 
breath; notwithstanding which, his periods 
were so long that he was often obliged to 
stop in the midst of them to take breath. 

This occasioned his being hissed by the 
whole audience, from whence he retired dis- 
couraged, and determined to renounce forever 
a function of which he believed himself incapa- 
ble. One of his auditors, who, through all 
these imperfections, had observed an excel- 
lent fund of genius in him, and a kind of 
eloquence which came very near that of 
Pericles, gave him new spirit from the grate- 
ful idea of so glorious a resemblance, and the 
good advice which he added to it. 

He ventured, therefore, to appear a second 



254 



PERSEVERANCE. 



time before the people, and was no better 
received than before. As he withdrew, 
hanging down his head, and in the utmost 
confusion, Satyrus, one of the most excellent 
actors of those times, who was his friend 
gave him encouragement and advice. He 
stammered to such a degree that he could 
not pronounce some letters, among others 
that with which the name of the art he 
studied begins ; and he was so short-breathed 
that he could not utter a whole period with- 
out stopping. 

He at length overcame these obstacles by 
putting small pebbles into his mouth, and 
pronouncing several verses in that manner 
without interruption ; and that even when 
walking and going up steep and difficult 
places ; so that, at last, no letter made him 
hesitate, and his breath held out through the 
longest periods. He went also to the sea- 
side, and while the waves were in the most 



violent agitation he pronounced harangues, 
to accustom himself, by the confused noise 
of the waters, to the roar of the people and 
the tumultuous cries of public assemblies. 

Demosthenes took no less care of his 
actions than of his voice. He had a large 
looking-glass in his house, which served to 
teach him gesture, and at which he used to 
declaim before he .spoke in public. To cor- 
rect a fault which he had contracted by an 
ill habit, of continually shrugging his shoul- 
ders, he practised standing upright in a kind 
of very narrow pulpit or rostrum, over which 
hung a halbert, in such a manner that, if in 
the heat of action that motion escaped him, 
the point of the weapon might serve at the 
same time to admonish and correct him. 

The fact is, much more might be accom- 
plished by the average man if he had General 
Grant's invincible determination to "fight it 
out on this line if it takes all summer." 



WANTED, A BOY.' 



■ ' Wanted, a boy ! ' Well, how glad I am 

To know that I was the first to see 
The daily paper — so early, too — 

Few boys are up — 'tis lucky for me." 
You hurry away through quiet streets. 

Breathlessly reaching the office door 
Where a boy was wanted, and lo ! you find 

It thronged and besieged by at least a score. 

' Wanted, a boy ! " So the place was gone ; 

You did not get it? Well, never mind. 
The world is large, and a vacant place 

Is somewhere in it for you to find ; 
Perhaps by long and devious ways, 

With perils to face, and battles to win. 
Obstacles great to be overcome. 

Before you reach it, and enter in. 



Philosophy surely wanted a boy. 

While Franklin worked at a printer's case; 
Mechanics, when, low in the darkened mine. 

By an engine, Stephenson found his place ; 



Nature, while Linnaeus, crushed and tried 
As a cobbler, toiled out his sunless youtfa ; 

Freedom, ere Washington reached her arms 
From childhood, up by the way of truth. 

Wanted, a boy ! " 'tis written above 

Coveted places of highest renown ; 
But the ladder of labor must ever be trod 

By boyish feet, ere the sign comes down. 
There are humble names half hidden now 

On the school day-roll, 'mong many a score. 
That yet will shine as the lights of fame, 

Till boys are wanted on earth no more. 

The forum is echoing burning words 

Of orators destined to pass awa}- ; 
You will be wanted instead of them soon, 

Men of the future are boys to-day. 
The watchmen standing on Zion's walls. 

Faithfully doing the Master's will. 
Are falling asleep as the years go by ; 

Wanted, a boy each place to fill. 

Mary B. REESB. 



CHAPTER XV. 



ECONOMY. 




O many persons have heard of 
^^ "Poor Richard's Almanac," pub- 
lished by Ben Franklin, and so 
few have ever had an oppor- 
tunity of reading it, that we take 
pleasure in inserting it in this 
chapter. It teaches the very 
important lesson of economy and thrift, and 
is full of quaint sayings and maxims of great 
value. 

Franklin entitles it, " The Way to Wealth, 
as Clearly Shown in the Preface of an old 
Pennsylvania Almanac." The sound sense 
and practical wisdom of" Poor Richard" are 
worthy of careful study and diligent practice. 
The Almanac purported to be the work of 
"Richard Saunders." 

Courteous Reader: I have heard that 
nothing gives an author so great pleasure as 
to find his works respectfully quoted by 
others. Judge, then, how much I must have 
been gratified by an incident I am going to 
relate to you. I stopped my horse, lately, 
where a great number of people were col- 
lected, at an auction of merchant's goods. 
The hour of the sale not being come, they 
were conversing on the badness of the times ; 
and one of the company called to a plain, 
clean old man, with white locks, " Pray, 
Father Abraham, what think you of the 
times? Will not these heavy taxes quite 
ruin the country? How shall we ever be 
able to pay them ? What would you advise 
us to do ? " 

Father Abraham stood up, and replied, 



" If you would have my advice, I will give i», 
to you in short ; ' for a word to the wise i* 
enough,' as poor Richard says." 

They joined in desiring him to speak his 
mind ; and, gathering round him, he pro- 
ceeded as follows : 

" Friends," says he, "the taxes are, indeed, 
very heavy, and, if those laid on by the 
government were the only ones we had to 
pay, we might more easily discharge them ; 
but we have many others, and much more 
grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice 
as much by our idleness, three times as much 
by our pride, and four times as much by our 
folly ; and from these taxes the commissioners 
cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an 
abatement. However, let us hearken to good 
advice, and something may be done for us, 
' God helps them that help themselves,' as- 
poor Richard says. 

The Sleeping Fox. 
" I . It would be thought a hard govern- 
ment that should tax its people one-tenth 
part of their time, to be employed in its- 
service ; but idleness taxes many of us much 
more ; sloth, by bringing on diseases, abso- 
lutely shortens life. 'Sloth, like rust, con- 
sumes faster than labor wears, while the used 
key is always bright,' as poor Richard says. 
'But dost thou love life? then do not 
squander time, for that is the stuff life is 
made of,' as poor Richard says. How much 
more than is necessary do we spend in sleep ! 
forgetting that ' the sleeping fox catches no 
265 




TEACHING THE YOUNG ECONOMY. 



256 



ECONOMY. 



257 



poultry, and that there will be sleeping 
enough in the grave,' as poor Richard says. 
" ' If time be of all things the most precious, 
wasting time must be,' as poor Richard says, 
'the greatest prodigality ; ' since, as he else- 
where tells us, ' lost time is never found 
again, and what we call time enough always 
proves little enough.' Let us then up and 
be doing, and doing to the purpose ; so by 
diligence shall we do more with less per- 
plexity. 'Sloth makes all things difficult, 
but industry all easy ; and he that riseth late 
must trot all day and shall scarce overtake 
his business at night ; while laziness travels 
so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. 
Drive thy business, let not that drive thee ; 
and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a 
man healthy, wealthy, and wise,' as poor 
Richard says. 

No Gains "Without Pains. 

"So what signifies wishing and hoping for 
better times ? We may make these times 
better, if we bestir ourselves. ' Industry need 
not wish, and he that lives upon hope will 
die fasting. There are no gains without 
pains ; then help hands, for I have no lands,' 
or, if I have, they are smartly taxed. ' He 
that hath a trade hath an estate; and, he 
that hath a calling hath an office of profit 
and honor,' as poor Richard says. But then 
the trade must be worked at, and the calling 
well followed, or neither the estate nor the 
office will enable us to pay our taxes. 

" If we are industrious, we shall never 
starve ; for, ' at the workingman's house 
hunger looks in, but dares not enter.' Nor 
will the bailiff or the constable enter; for 
' industry pays debts, while despair increaseth 
them.' What though you have found no 
treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a 
legacy ; ' diligence is the mother of good 
luck, and God gives all things to industry. 



Then plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and 
you shall have corn to sell and to keep.' 
Work while it is called to-day ; for you know 
not how much you may be hindered to- 
morrow. ' One to-day is worth two to-mor- 
rows,' as poor Richard says ; and, further, 
' never leave that till to-morrow which you 
can do to-day.' 

Little Strokes Fell Great Oaks. 

" If you were a servant, would you not be 
ashamed that a good master should catch 
you idle ? Are you then your own masters ? 
Be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there 
is so much to be done for yourself, your 
family, your country, and your king. Handle 
your tools without mittens ; remember that 
' the cat in gloves catches no mice,' as poor 
Richard says. It is true, there is much to be 
done, and perhaps you are weak -handed ; 
but stick to it steadily, and you will see great 
effects, for 'constant dropping wears away 
stones ; and, by diligence and patience the 
mouse ate in two the cable ; and little strokes 
fell great oaks.' 

"Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must 
a man afford himself no leisure ? ' I will tell 
thee, my friend, what poor Richard says. 
' Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to 
gain leisure ; and, since thou art not sure of 
a minute, throw not away an hour.' Leisure 
is time for doing something useful; this 
leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the 
lazy man never; for 'a life of leisure and a 
life of laziness are two things. Many, with- 
out labor, would live by their wits only, but 
they break for want of stock ; ' whereas in- 
dustry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. 
' Fly pleasures, and they will follow you. 
The diligent spinner has a large shift ; and, 
now I have a sheep and a cow, every one 
bids me good-morrow.' 

"2. But, with our industry, we must like- 



k 



258 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



wise be steady, settled and careful, and over- 
see our own affairs with our own eyes, and 
not trust too much to others ; for, as poor 
Richard says, 

' I never saw an oft-removed tree, 
Nor yet an oft-removed family, 
That throve so well as those that settled be.' 

" And again, ' three removes is as bad as 
a fire;' and again, 'keep thy shop, and thy 
shop will keep thee;' and again, * if you 
would have your business done, go, — if not, 
send.' And again, 

' He that by the plough would thrive 
Himself must either hold or drive.' 

"And again, 'the eye of a master will do 
more work than both his hands ; ' and again 
* want of care does us more damage than 
want of knowledge ; ' and again, ' not to over- 
see workmen is to leave them your purse 
open.' Trusting too much to others' care is 
the ruin of many ; for, ' in the affairs of this 
world, men are saved, not by faith, but by 
the want of it ; ' but a man's own care is 
profitable ; for ' if you would have a faithfu 
servant, and one that you like, serve yourself 

How the Rider Was Lost. 

"A little neglect may breed great mischief 
for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for 
want of a shoe the horse was lost, and for 
want of a horse the rider was lost,' being 
overtaken and slain by the enemy ; all for 
want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. 

"3. So much for industry, my friends, and 
attention to one's own business. But to 
these we must add frugality, if we would 
make our industry more certainly successful. 
A man may, if he knows not how to save as 
he gets, 'keep his nose all his life to the 
grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last 
A fat kitchen makes a lean will ; ' and again* 



' Many estates are spent in the getting, 
Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, 
And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.' 

" ' If you would be wealthy, think of sav- 
ing, as well as of getting. The Indies have 
not made Spain rich, because her outgoes 
are greater than her incomes.' 

Small Leaks. 

"Away, then, with your expensive follies, 
and you will not then have so much cause to 
complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and 
chargeable families ; for 

' Women and wine, game and deceit, 
Make the wealth small, and the want great.' 

"And further, 'what maintains one vice 
would bring up two children.' You may 
think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little 
punch now and then, diet a little more 
costly, clothes a little finer, and a little enter- 
tainment now and then, can be no great 
matter. But remember, ' many a little makes 
a mickle.' Beware of little expenses; 'a 
small leak will sink a great ship,' as poor 
Richard says ; and again, ' who dainties love 
shall beggars prove ; ' and, moreover, ' fools 
make feasts, and wise men eat them.' 

" Here you are all got together to this sale 
of fineries and knick-knacks. You call them 
goods ; but, if you do not take care, they will 
prove evils to some of you. You expect 
they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they 
may, for less than they cost; but, if you 
have no occasion for them, they must be 
dear to you. Remember what poor Richard 
says, ' buy what thou hast no need of, and 
ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries.' 

" And again, ' at a great pennyworth pause 
a while.' He means that perhaps the cheap- 
ness is apparent only, and not real ; or the 
bargain, by straitening thee in thy business, 
may do thee more harm than good. For, 



ECONOMY 



259 



in another place he says, ' many have been 
ruined by buying good pennyworths.' Again, 
' it is foolish to lay out money in a purchase 
of repentance ; ' and yet this folly is practised 
every day at auctions, for want of minding 
the almanac. 

Poverty in Silks. 

" Many a one, for the sake of finery on the 
back, have gone with a hungry belly, and 
half starved their families ; ' silks and satins, 
scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen fire,' 
as poor Richard says. These are not the 
necessaries of life, they can scarcely be called 
the conveniences ; and yet, only because 
they look pretty, how many want to have 
them ! By these and other extravagances, 
the genteel are reduced to poverty, and 
forced to borrow of those whom they for- 
merly despised, but who, through industry 
and frugality, have maintained their standing; 
in which case it appears plainly that 'a. 
ploughman on his legs is higher than a gen- 
tleman on his knees,' as poor Richard says. 

" Perhaps they have had a small estate left 
them, which they knew not the getting of ; 
they think ' it is day, and it will never be 
night ; ' that a little to be spent out of so 
much is not worth minding ; but ' always 
taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting 
in, soon comes to the bottom,' as poor Rich- 
ard says ; and then, ' when the well is dry, 
they know the worth of water.' 

" But this they might have known before, if 
they had taken his advice : ' if you would 
know the value of money, go and try to 
borrow some ; for he that goes a borrowing 
goes a sorrowing,' as poor Richard says; 
and indeed so does he that lends to such 
people, when he goes to get it again. Poor 
Dick further advises, and says : 

' Fond pride of dress is sure a curse ; 
Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.' 



And again, ' pride is as loud a beggar as want, 
and a great deal more saucy.' When you 
have bought one fine thing, you must buy 
ten more, that your appearance may be all 
of a piece ; but poor Dick says, ' it is easier 
to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all 
that follow it ; ' and it is as truly folly for 
the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to 
swell in order to equal the ox. 

' Vessels large may venture more, 
But little boats should keep near shore.' 

"It is, however, a folly soon punished; 
for, as poor Richard says, ' pride that dines 
on vanity sups on contempt; pride break- 
fasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and 
supped with infamy.' And, after all, of 
what use is this pride of appearance, for 
which so much is risked, so much is suffered ? 
It cannot promote health, nor ease pain ; it 
makes no increase of merit in the person; it 
creates envy, it hastens misfortune. 

Running in Debt. 

" But what madness must it be to run in 
debt for these superfluities ! We are offered 
by the terms of this sale six months' credit ; 
and that perhaps has induced some of us to 
attend it, because we cannot spare the ready 
money, and hope now to be fine without it. 
But, ah ! think what you do when you run 
into debt ; you give to another power over 
your liberty. 

" If you cannot pay at the time, you will 
be ashamed to see your creditor, you will be 
in fear when you speak to him, when you 
will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, 
and by degrees come to lose your veracity, 
and sink into base, downright lying ; for ' the 
second vice is lying, the first is running in 
debt,' as poor Richard says ; and again, to 
the same purpose, ' lying rides upon debt's 
back : ' whereas a free-born Englishman 



260 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or 
speak to any man living. 

" But poverty often deprives a man of all 
spirit and virtue. ' It is hard for an empty 
bag to stand upright.' What would you 
think of that prince, or of that government, 
who should issue an edict forbidding you to 
dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on 
pain of imprisonment or servitude ? Would 
you not say that you were free, have a right 
to dress as you please, and that such an 
edict would be a breach of your privileges, 
and such a government tyrannical ? 

In the Clutches of Creditors. 

"And yet, you are about to put yourself 
under that tyranny when you run in debt 
for such dress. Your creditor has authority, 
at his pleasure, to deprive you of your 
liberty, by confining you in jail for life, or by 
selling you for a servant, if you should not 
be able to pay him. When you have got 
your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little 
of payment; but, as poor Richard says, 
* creditors have better memories than debtors ; 
creditors are a superstitious sect, great obser- 
vers of set days and times.' The day comes 
round before you are aware, and the demand 
is made before you are prepared to satisfy it ; 
or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, 
which at first seemed so long, will, as it les- 
sens, appear extremely short ; time will seem 
to have added wings to his heels, as well as 
his shoulders. 'Those have a short Lent 
who owe money to be paid at Easter.' 

"At present, perhaps, you may think your- 
selves in thriving circumstances, and that you 
can bear a little extravagance without injury ; 
but 

' For age and want save while you may, — 
No morning sun lasts a whole day.' 

Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but 
ever, while you live, expense is constant and 



certain ; and ' it is easier to build two chim- 
neys than to keep one in fuel,' as poor Rich- 
ard says : so, ' rather go to bed supperless 
than rise in debt.' 

' Get what you can, and what you get hold, 

'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.' 

And, when you have got the philosopher's 
stone, sure you will no longer complain of 
bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes. 

"4. This doctrine, my friends, is reason 
and wisdom : but, after all, do not depend 
too much upon your own industry, and fru- 
gality and prudence, though excellent things ; 
for they may all be blasted without the bless- 
ing of Heaven ; and therefore ask that 
blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to 
those that at present seem to want it, but 
comfort and help them. Remember Job 
suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. 

"And now, to conclude, 'experience keeps 
a dear school, but fools will learn in no other,' 
as poor Richard says, and scarce in that ; 
for, it is true, 'we may give advice, but we 
cannot give conduct : ' however, remember 
this, ' they that will not be counselled cannot 
be helped ; ' and further, that ' if you will not 
hear reason she will surely rap your knuckles,' 
as poor Richard says." 

Practised the Contrary. 
Thus the old gentleman ended his har- 
angue. The people heard it, and approved 
the doctrine ; and immediately practised the 
contrary, just as if it had been a common 
sermon; for the auction opened, and they 
began to buy extravagantly. I found the 
good man had thoroughly studied my al- 
manacs, and digested all I had dropped on 
those topics during the course of twenty-five 
years. The frequent mention he made of 
me must have tired any one else ; but my 
vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, 




THE FRUIT-SELLER COUNTING HER MONEY. 



261 



262 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



though I was conscious that not a tenth part 
of the wisdom was my own which he ascribed 
to me, but rather the gleanings that I have 
made of the sense of all ages and nations. 
However, I resolved to be the better for the 
echo of it ; and, though I had at first deter- 
mined to buy stuff for a new coat, I went 
away resolved to wear my old one a little 
longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, 
thy profit will be as great as 

Richard Saunders'. 

A Pithy Old Fable. 

Franklin's advice suggests the old fable 
concerning the grasshopper and the bees- 
A grasshopper, half starved with cold and 
hunger, came to a well-stored bee-hive at 
the approach of winter, and humbly begged 
the bees to relieve his wants with a few drops 
of honey. 

One of the bees asked him how he had 
spent his time all the summer, and why he 
had not laid up a store of food like them. 

"Truly," said he, "I spent my time very 
merrily, in drinking, dancing, and singing, 
and never once thought of winter." 

"Our plan is very different," said the bee: 
" we work hard in the summer to lay by a 
store of food against the season when we 
foresee we shall want it ; but those who do 
nothing but drink, and dance, and sing in the 
summer must expect to starve in the winter." 

Competence and comfort lie within the 
reach of most people, were they to take the 
adequate means to secure and enjoy them. 
Men who are paid good wages might also 
become capitalists, and take their fair share 
in the improvement and well-being of the 
world. But it is only by the exercise of 
labor, energy, honesty, and thrift that they 
can advance their own position or that of 
their class. 

Society at present suffers far more from 



waste of money than from want of money. 
It is easier to make money than to know 
how to spend it. It is not what a man gets 
that constitutes his wealth, but his manner 
of spending and economizing. And when a 
man obtains by his labor more than enough 
for his personal and family wants, and can 
lay by a little store of savings besides, he 
unquestionably possesses the elements of 
social well-being. The savings may amount 
to little, but they may be sufficient to make 
him independent. 

Above Poverty. 

To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, 

Assiduous wait upon her ; 
And gather gain by ev'ry wile 

That's justified by honor : 
Not for to hide it in a hedge. 

Nor for a train attendant ; 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independent. 

Robert Burns. 

Thrift of time is equal to thrift of money. 
Franklin said, " Time is gold." If one 
wishes to earn money, it may be done by 
the proper use of time. But time may also 
be .spent in doing many good and noble 
actions. It may be spent in learning, in 
study, in art, in science, in literature. Time 
can be economized by system. 

System is an arrangement to secure cer- 
tain ends, so that no time may be lost in 
accomplishing them. Every business man 
must be systematic and orderly; so must 
every housewife. There must be a place 
for everything, and everything in its place. 
There must also be a time for everything,, 
and everything must be done in time. 

It is not necessary to show that economy 
is useful. Nobody denies that thrift may be 
practiced. We see numerous examples of 
it. What many men have already done, all 
other men jnay do. Nor is thrift a painful 



ECONOMY. 



virtue. On the contrary, it enables us to 
avoid much contempt and many indignities. 
It requires us to deny ourselves, but not to 
abstain from any proper enjoyment. It pro- 
vides many honest pleasures, of which thrift- 
lessness and extravagance deprive us. 

Habit of Economizing. 

Let no man say that he cannot economize. 
There are few persons that could not con- 
trive to save something weekly. In twenty 
years one dollar saved weekly would amount 
to one thousand and forty dollars, to say 
nothing of interest. Some may say that 
they cannot save nearly so much. Well ! 
begin somewhere ; at all events, make a 
beginning. It is the habit of economizing 
and denying one's self that needs to be 
formed. 

Economy does not require superior cour- 
age, nor superior intellect, nor any super- 
human virtue. It merely requires common 
sense, and the power of resisting selfish 
enjoyments. In fact, thrift is merely com- 
mon sense in every-day working action. It 
needs no fervent resolution, but only a little 
patient self-denial. Begin is its device ! The 
more the habit of thrift is practiced, the easier 
it becomes, and the sooner it compensates 
the self-denier for the sacrifices which it has 
imposed. 

The question may be asked : " Is it pos- 
sible for a man working for small wages to 
save anything, and lay it by in a savings- 
bank, when he requires every penny for the 
maintenance of his family? But the fact re- 
mains that it is done by many industrious 
and sober men ; that they do deny them- 
selves, and put their spare earnings into 
savings-banks and the other receptacles 
provided for poor men's savings. And if 
some can do this, all may do it under similar 
circumstances, without depriving themselves 



263 

any real enjoy- 



of any genuine pleasure 
ment. 

How intensely selfish is it for anyone in 
the receipt of good pay to spend everything 
upon himself; or, if he has a family, to spend 
his whole earnings from week to week, and 
lay nothing by. When we hear that a man 
who has been in the receipt of a good salary 
has died and left nothing behind him — that 
he has left his wife and family destitute — left 
them to chance — to live or perish anywhere 
— we cannot but regard it as the most selfish 
thriftlessness. And yet comparatively little 
is thought of such cases. Perhaps the hat 
goes round. Subscriptions may produce 
something — ^perhaps nothing; and the ruined 
remnants of the unhappy family sink into 
poverty and destitution. 

Laying Up for a Rainy Day. 

Yet the merest prudence would, to a great 
extent, have obviated this result. The cur- 
tailment of any sensual or selfish enjoyment 
would enable a man, in the course of years, 
to save at least something for others, ins'jaJ 
of wasting it on himself It is, in fact, the 
absolute duty of the poorest man to provide^ 
in however slight a degree, for the support 
of his family in the season of sickness and 
helplessness, which often comes upon men 
when they least expect such a visitation. 

Comparatively few people can be rich ; but 
most have it in their power to acquire, by 
industry and economy, sufficient to meet their 
personal wants. They may even become the 
possessors of savings sufficient to secure them 
against penury and poverty in their old age. 
It is not, however, the want of opportunity, 
but the want of will, that stands in the way 
of economy. Men may labor unceasingly 
with hand or head ; but they cannot abstain 
from spending too freely and living too 
highly. 



264 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



The majority prefer the enjoyment of 
pleasure to the practice of self-denial. - With 
the mass of men the animal is paramount. 
They often spend all that they earn. But it 
is not merely the working people who are 
spendthrifts. We hear of men who for years 
have been earning and spending thousands a 
year, who suddenly die, leaving their children 
penniless. Everybody knows of such cases. 
At their death the very furniture of the house 
they have lived in belongs to others. It is 
sold to pay their funeral expenses, and the 
debts which they have incurred during their 
thriftless life-time. 

Money represents a multitude of objects 
without value or without real utility ; but it 
also represents something much more pre- 
cious, and that is independence. In this 
light it is of great moral importance. 

As a guarantee of independence, the 
modest and plebian quality of economy is 
at once ennobled and raised to the rank of 
the most meritorious of virtues. 

Living from Hand to Mouth. 

"Never treat money affairs with levity," 
said Bulwer ; "money is character." Some 
of man's best qualities depend upon the right 
use of money — such as his generosity, ben- 
evolence, justice, honesty, and forethought. 
Many of his worst qualities also originate in 
the bad use of money — such as greed, miser- 
liness, injustice, extravagance and improvi- 
dence. 

No class ever accomplished anything that 
lived from hand to mouth. People who 
spend all that they earn are ever hanging on 
the brink of destitution. They must neces- 
sarily be weak and impotent — the slaves of 
time and circumstance. They keep them- 
selves poor. They lose self-respect, as well 
as the respect of others. It is impossible 
lliat they can be free and independent. To 



be thriftless is enough to deprive one of all 
manly spirit and virtue. 

But a man with something saved, no 
matter how little, is in a different position. 
The little capital he has stored up is always 
a source of power. He is no longer the 
.sport of time and fate. He can boldly look 
the world in the face. He is, in a manner, 
his own master. He can dictate his own 
terms. He can neither be bought nor sold. 
He can look forward with cheerfulness to an 
old age of comfort and happiness. 

What About To-Morrow? 

As men become wise and thoughtful, they 
generally become provident and frugal. A 
thoughtless man, like a savage, spends as he 
gets, thinking nothing of to-morrow, of the 
time of adversity, or of the claims of those 
whom he has made dependent on him. But 
a wise man thinks of the future; he prepares 
in good time for the evil day that may come 
upon him and his family ; and he provides 
carefully for those who are near and dear to 
him. 

What a serious responsibility does the man 
incur who marries ! Not many seriously 
think of this responsibility. Perhaps this is 
wisely ordered. For much .serious thinking 
might end in the avoidance of married life 
and its responsibilities. But, once married, 
a man ought forthwith to determine that, so 
far as his own efforts are concerned, want 
shall never enter his household ; and that 
his children shall not, in the event of his 
being removed from the scene of life and 
labor, be left a burden upon society. 

Economy with this object is an important 
duty. Without economy, no man can be 
just — no man can be honest. Improvidence 
is cruelty to women and children, though the 
cruelty is born of ignorance. A father spends 
his surplus means in drink, providing little 



ECONOMY. 



265 



and saving nothing ; and then he dies, leav- 
ing his destitute family his life-long victims. 
Can any form of cruelty surpass this ? Yet 
this reckless, course is pursued to a large 
extent. Men live beyond their means. 
They live extravagantly. They are ambi- 
tious of glare and glitter, frivolity and pleas- 
ure. They struggle to be rich, that they 
may have the means of spending — of having 
" a good time." 

Living at High-Pressure. 

Thinking people believe that life is now 
too fast, and that we are living at high- 
pressure. In short, we live extravagantly. 
We live beyond our means. We throw away 
our earnings, and often throw our lives after 
them. 

Many persons are diligent enough in 
making money, but do not know how to 
economize it, or how to spend it. They have 
sufficient skill and industry to do the one, 
but they want the necessary wisdom to do 
the other. The temporary passion for enjoy- 
ment seizes us, and we give way to it without 
regard to consequences. And yet it may be 
merely the result of forgetfulness, and may 
be easily controlled by firmness of will, and 
by energetic resolution to avoid the occa- 
sional causes of expenditure for the future. 

The habit of saving arises, for the most 
part, in the desire to ameliorate our social 
condition, as well as to ameliorate the condi- 
tion of those who are dependent upon us. 
It dispenses with everything which is not 
essential, and avoids all methods of living 
that are wasteful and extravagant. A pur- 
chase made at the lowest price will be dear, 
if it be a superfluity. Little expenses lead to 
great. Buying things that are not wanted 
soon accustoms us to prodigality in other 
respects. 

Cicero said, " Not to have a mania for 



buying, is to possess a revenue." Many are 
carried away by the habit of bargain-buying. 
" Here is something wonderfully cheap : let 
us buy it." "Have you any use for it?" 
"No, not at present; but it is sure to come 
in use sometime." Fashion runs in this 
habit of buying. Some buy old china — as 
much as will furnish a china-shop. Others 
buy old pictures — :old furniture — all great 
bargains ! There would be little harm in 
buying these old things, if they were not so 
often bought at the expense of the connois- 
seur's creditors. Horace Walpole once said, 
" I hope that there will not be another sale, 
for I have not an inch of room nor a farthing 
left." 

Making Hay While the Sun Shines. 

Men must prepare in youth and in middle 
age the means for enjoying old age pleas- 
antly and happily. There can be nothing 
more distressing than to see an old man who 
has spent the greater part of his life in well- 
paid-for labor, reduced to the necessity of beg- 
ging for bread, and relying entirely upon the 
commiseration of his neighbors or upon the 
bounty of strangers. Such a consideration 
as this should inspire men in early life with a 
determination to work and to save, for the 
benefit of themselves and their families in 
later years. 

It is, in fact, in youth that economy should 
be practiced, and in old age that men should 
dispense liberally, provided they do not exceed 
their income. The young man has a long 
future before him, during which he may 
exercise the principles of economy ; while the 
other is reaching the end of his career, and 
can carry nothing out of the world with him. 

This, however, is not the usual practice. 
The young man now spends, or desires to 
spend, quite as liberally, and often much 
more liberally than his father, who is about 



'20(3 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



to end his career. He begins life where his 
father left off. He spends more than his 
father did at his age, and soon finds himself 
up to his ears in debt. To satisfy his incess- 
ant wants, he resorts to unscrupulous means 
and illicit gains. He tries to make money 
rapidly ; he speculates, overtrades, and is 
speedily wound up. Thus he obtains expe- 
rience; but it is the result, not of well-doing, 
but of ill-doing. 

Socrates recommends the fathers of fami- 
lies to observe the practice of their thrifty 
neighbors — of those who spend their means 
to the best advantage — and to profit by their 
example. Thrift is essentially practical, and 
can best be taught by facts. Two men earn, 
say, three dollars a day. They are in pre- 
cisely the same condition as respects family 
living and expenditure. Yet the one says he 
cannot save, and does not ; while the other 
says he can save, and regularly deposits 
part of his savings in a savings-bank and 
eventually becomes a capitalist. 

The Source of W^ell-Being. 

Samuel Johnson fully knew the straits of 
poverty. He once signed his name Impran- 
sus, or Dinnerless. He had walked the 
streets with Savage, not knowing where to 
lay his head at night. Johnson never forgot 
the poverty through which he passed in his 
early life, and he was always counselling his 
friends and readers to avoid it. Like Cicero, 
he averred that the best source of wealth or 
well-being was economy. He called it the 
daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temper- 
ance, and the mother of Liberty. 

"Poverty," he said, "takes away so many 
means of doing good, and produces so much 
inability to resist evil, both natural and moral, 
that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. 
Resolve, then, not to be poor; whatever you 
have, spend less. Frugality is not only the 



basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man 
can help others who wants help himself: we 
must have enough before we have to spare," 

And again he said, "Poverty is a great 
enemy to human happiness. It certamly 
destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues 
impracticable, and others extremely difficult. 
for without economy none can be rich, ana 
with it few can be poor." 

When economy is looked upon as a thing 
that must be practiced, it will never be felt as 
a burden ; and those who have not before 
observed it, will be astonished to find what a 
few pennies or dollars laid aside weekly will 
do toward securing moral elevation, mental 
culture, and personal independence. 

There is a dignity in every attempt to 
economize. Its very practice is improving. 
It indicates self-denial, and imparts strength 
to the character. It produces a well-regu- 
lated mind. It fosters temperance. It is 
based on forethought. It makes prudence 
the dominating characteristic. It gives virtue 
the mastery over self-indulgence. Above all, 
it secures comfort, drives away care, and dis- 
pels many vexations and anxieties which 
might otherwise prey upon us. 

An employer recommended one of his 
workmen to " lay by something for a rainy 
day." Shortly after, the master asked the 
man how much he had added to his store. 
"Faith, nothing at all," said he; "I did as 
you bid me; but it rained very hard yester- 
day, and it all went — in drink ! " 

Look at the Pennies. 

Letters joined make words, 
And words to books may grow 

As flake on flake, descending. 
Forms an avalanche of snow. 

A single utterance may good 

Or evil thoughts inspire ; 
One little spark, enkindled, 

May set a town on fire. 



ECONOMY. 



267 



What volumes may be written 

With little drops of ink ! 
How small a leak, unnoticed, 

A mighty ship will sink ! 

A tiny insect's labor 

Makes the coral strand, 
And mighty seas are girdled 

With grains of golden sand. 

A daily penny, saved, 

A fortune may begin ; 
A daily penny, squandered, 

May lead to vice and sin. 

Our life is made entirely 

Of moments multiplied, 
As little streamlets, joining, 

Form the ocean's tide. 

The methods of practicing economy are 
very simple. Spend less than you earn. 
That is the first rule. A portion should 
always be set apart for the future. The 
person who spends more than he earns is a 
fool. The civil law regards the spendthrift 
as akin to the lunatic, and frequently takes 
from him the management of his own affairs. 

A Heavy Burden. 

The next rule is, to pay ready money, 
and never, on any account, to run into debt. 
The person who runs into debt is apt to get 
cheated; and if he runs into debt to any ex- 
tent, he will himself be apt to get dishonest. 
"Who pays what he owes, enriches himself" 

The next is, never to anticipate uncertain 
profits by expending them before they are 
secured. The profits may never come, and 
in that case you will have taken upon your- 
self a load of debt which you may never get 
rid of It will sit upon your shoulders like 
the old man in Sindbad. 

Another method of economy is, to keep 
a regular account of all that you earn and 
of all that you expend. An orderly man 
will know beforehand what he requires, and 
will be provided with the necessary means 



for obtaining it. Thus his domestic budget 
will be balanced, and his expenditure kept 
within his income. 

John Wesley regularly adopted this course. 
Although he possessed a small income, he 
always kept his eyes upon the state of his 
affairs. A year before his death, he wrote, 
with a trembling hand, in his Journal of 
Expenses : " For more than eighty-six years 
I have kept my accounts exactly. I do not 
care to continue to do so any longer, having 
the conviction that I economize all that I 
obtain, and give all that I can — that is to 
say, all that I have.'" 

Keep Your Eyes Open. 

Besides these methods of economy, the 
eye of the employer is always necessary to 
see that nothing is lost, that everything is 
put to its proper use and kept in its proper 
place, and that all things are done decently 
and in order. It does no dishonor to even 
the highest individuals to take a personal 
interest in their own affairs. And with per- 
sons of moderate means, the necessity for 
the eye of the employer overlooking every- 
thing, is absolutely necessary for the proper 
conduct of business. 

It is difficult to fix the precise limits of 
economy. Bacon says that if a man would 
live well within his income, he ought not to 
expend more than one-half and save the rest. 
This is perhaps too exacting; and Bacon 
himself did not follow his own advice. What 
proportion of one's income should be ex- 
pended on rent? That depends upon cir- 
cumstances. It is, at all events, better to 
save too much than spend too much. One 
may remedy the first defect, but not so easily 
the latter. Wherever there is a large family, 
the more money that is put to one side and 
saved, the better. 

Economy is necessary to the moderately 



268 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



rich as well as to the comparatively poor 
man. Without economy, a man cannot be 
generous. He cannot take part in the 
charitable work of the world. If he spends 
all that he earns, he can help nobody. He 
cannot properly educate his children, nor put 
them in the way of starting fairly in the 
business of life. Even the example of 
Bacon shows that the loftiest intelligence 
cannot neglect thrift without peril. But 
thousands of witnesses daily testify that men 
even of the most moderate intelligence can 
practice the virtue with success. 

To save money for avaricious purposes is 
altogether different from saving it for econ- 
omical purposes. The saving may be ac- 
complished in the same manner — by wasting 
nothing and saving everything. But here 
the comparison ends. The miser's only 
pleasure is in saving. The prudent econo- 
mist spends what he can afford for comfort 
and enjoyment, and saves a surplus for some 
future time. 

The Golden Calf. 

The avaricious person makes gold his 
idol : it is his molten calf, before which he 
constantly bows down ; whereas the thrifty 
person regards it as a useful instrument, and 
as a means of promoting his own happiness 
and the happiness of those who are dependent 
upon him. The miser is never satisfied. He 
amasses wealth that he can never consume, 
but leaves it to be squandered by others, 
probably by spendthrifts ; whereas the econo- 
mist aims at securing a fair share of the 
world's wealth and comfort, without any 
thought of amassing a fortune. 

It is the duty of all persons to economize 
their means — of the young as well as of the 
old. Is a man married ? Then the duty of 
economy is still more binding. His wife and 
children plead to him most eloquently. Are 



they, in the event of his early death, to be 
left to buffet with the world unaided ? The 
hand of charity is cold, the gifts of charity 
are valueless compared with the gains of 
industry and the honest savings of frugal 
labor, which carry with them blessings and 
comforts, without inflicting any wound upon 
the feelings of the helpless and bereaved. 

Let every man, therefore, who can, en- 
deavor to economize and to save; not to 
hoard, but to nurse his little savings, for the 
sake of promoting the welfare and happiness 
of himself while here, and of others when he 
has departed. 

How to Secure Comfort. 

There is a dignity in the very effort to save 
with a worthy purpose, even though the 
attempt should not be crowned with eventual 
success. It produces a well regulated mind ; 
it gives prudence a triumph over extrava- 
gance ; it gives virtue the mastery over vice; 
it puts the passions under control ; it drives 
away care ; it secures comfort. 

Saved money, however little, will serve to 
dry up many a tear — will ward off many 
sorrows and heart-burnings, which otherwise 
might prey upon us. Possessed of a little 
store of capital, a man walks with a lighter 
step, his heart beats more cheerily. When 
interruption of work or adversity happens, 
he can meet it ; he can recline on his capital, 
which will either break his fall or prevent it 
altogether. 

There are, of course, many failures in the 
world. The man who looks to others for 
help, instead of relying on himself, will fail. 
The man who is undergoing the process oi 
perpetual waste will fail. The miser, the 
scrub, the extravagant, the thriftless, will 
necessarily fail. Indeed, most people fail 
because they do not deserve to succeed. 
They set about their work in the wrong way, 



ECONOMY. 



269 



and no amount of experience seems to 
improve them. There is not so much in hick 
as some people profess to beheve. 

Luck is only another word for good 
management in practical affairs. Richelieu 
used to say that he would not continue to 
employ an unlucky man — in other words, a 
man wanting in practical qualities, and unable 
to profit by experience ; for failures in the 
past are very often the auguries of failures 
in the future. 

He Put Out the Candle. 

Thomas Guy was so complete an exemplar 
of economy, that the celebrated Vulture 
Hopkins once called upon him to learn a 
lesson in the art of saving. On being intro- 
duced into the parlor, Guy, not knowing his 
visitor, lighted a candle ; and then Hopkins 
said, "Sir, I always thought myself perfect 
in the art of getting and husbanding money, 
but being told that you far exceed me, I have 
taken the liberty of waiting upon you to be 
satisfied on this subject." 

"If that is all your business," repHed Guy, 
" we can as well talk it over in the dark as in 
the light," at the same time carefully putting 
out his farthing candle with the extinguisher. 
This was evidence enough to Hopkins, who 
acknowledged Guy to be his master, and 
took his leave. 

Macaulay in his " Life of Frederick the 
Great," says: "Every seventh man in the 
vigor of life was a soldier — army expenses 
enormous. In order that it might not be 
utterly ruinous, it was necessary that every 
other expense should be cut down to the 
lowest possible point. Accordingly, Fred- 
erick, though his dominions bordered on the 
sea, had no navy. He neither had nor 
wished to have colonies. His judges, his 
fiscal officers, were meanly paid. His min- 
isters at foreign courts walked on foot, or 



drove shabby old carriages till the axletrees 
gave way. Even to his highest diplomatic 
agents, who resided at London and Paris, he 
allowed less than ^5000 a year. 

"The royal household was managed with 
a frugality unusual in the establishments of 
opulent subjects — unexampled in any other 
palace. The king loved good eating and 
drinking, and during a great part of his life 
took pleasure in seeing his table surrounded 
by guests ; yet the whole charge of his 
kitchen was brought within the sum of 
;$ 10,000 a year. He examined every extra- 
ordinary item with a care which might be 
thought to suit the mistress of a boarding- 
house better than a great prince." 

A Thrifty Ruler. 

Gibbon in his " Rise and Fall of the 
Roman Empire" gives an illustrious ex- 
ample of thrift: "John Ducas Vataces, ruler 
of the Eastern Empire in 1222, rescued the 
provinces from national and foreign usurpers. 
The calamities of the times had wasted the 
numbers and the substance of the Greeks; 
the motives and the means of agriculture 
were extirpated; and the most fertile lands 
were left without cultivation or inhabitants. 
A portion of this vacant property was occu- 
pied and improved by the command, and for 
the benefit, of the emperor; a powerful hand 
and a vigilant eye supplied and surpassed^ 
by a skilful management, the minute dili- 
gence of a private farmer; the royal domain 
became the garden and granary of Asia- 
and without impoverishing the people, the 
sovereign acquired a fund of innocent and 
productive wealth. 

"According to the nature of the soil, his 
lands were sown with corn or planted with 
vines; the pastures were filled with horses 
and oxen, with sheep and hogs; and when 
Vataces presented to the empress a crown 



270 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



of diamonds and pearls, he informed her, 
with a smile, that this precious ornament 
arose from the sale of the eggs of his 
innumerable poultry. 

" The produce of his domain was applied 
to the maintenance of his palace and hos- 
pitals, the calls of dignity and benevolence; 
the lesson was still more useful than the 
revenue; the plough was restored to its 
ancient security and honor; and the nobles 
were taught to seek a sure and independent 
revenue from their estates, instead of adorn- 
ing their splendid beggary by the oppression 
of the people, or (what is almost the same) 
by the favors of the court." 

When William Penn was about to leave 
his family for America, his wife, who was 
the love of his youth, was reminded of his 
impoverishment because of his public spirit, 
and recommended economy. "Live low 
and sparingly till my debts be paid." Yet 
for his children he adds : " Let their learning 
be liberal; spare no cost, for by such parsi- 
mony all is lost that is saved." 

Society mainly consists of two classes — 
the savers and the wasters, the provident 
and the improvident, the thrifty and the 
thriftless, the Haves and the Have-nots. 



The men who economize by means of 
labor become the owners of capital which 
sets other labor in motion. Capital accu- 
mulates in their hands, and they employ 
other laborers to work for them. Thus 
trade and commerce begin. 

The thrifty build houses, warehouses, and 
mills. They fit manufactories with tools and 
machines. They build ships, and send them 
to various parts of the world. They put 
their capital together, and build railroads, 
harbors, and docks. They open up mines 
of coal, iron, and copper, and erect pump- 
ing-engines to keep them clear of water. 
They employ laborers to work the mines, 
and thus give rise to an immense amount of 
employment. 

All this is the result of thrift. It is the 
result of economizing money and employing 
it for beneficial purposes. The thriftless man 
has no share in the progress of the world. 
He spends all that he gets, and can give no 
help to anybody. No matter how much 
money he makes, his position is not in any 
respect raised. He husbands none of his 
resources. He is always calling for help. 
He is, in fact, the born slave of the thrifty, 
and is ever dependent. 




CHAPTKR XVI 
COURAGE. 




HERE is a grand virtue that 
goes by the blunt name of 
"Pluck." It would take vol- 
umes to record its victories. 
You should be able to face a 
duty or a trial. Walk up to 
it with determination in every 
look and action. Pluck is opposed to cow- 
ardice. It does not belong to weak charac- 
ters. You find it wherever anything worth 
doing is done, worth achieving is achieved. 
It can stand a shock without fainting. It 
doesn't mope around with camphor and a 
smelling-bottle. It doesn't run when a leaf 
rustles. Its hair is not likely to stand straight 
up through fright. It doesn't run for ghosts; 
it marches right up, and the ghost runs. 
Pluck has done wonders. If you have it, 
thank God for it; if you haven't it, you 
ought to have an assured income, someone 
to pay for your food and clothes, and give 
you a decent burial, when, fortunately for 
the world, you die. 

This magnificent courage has had its praises 
sung in epics and told in history. Not half 
enough has ever been said about it. Go on 
telling its achievements for ages, and you 
would then only be in the first chapter. 
Bronze and marble commemorate it, but its 
glories and triumphs will last when bronze 
and marble have crumbled. 

Courage without wisdom is mere boldness, 
and there is a bad boldness that defeats itself. 
You like to see a man who knows he is right 
stand like a rock. You despise the man who is 
blown about by every wind that comes along. 



President Garfield once said : "A pound 
of pluck is worth a ton of luck. Let not 
poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. 
Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify ; 
but nine times out of ten the best thing that 
can happen to a young man is to be tossed 
overboard and be compelled to sink or swim 
for himself In all my acquaintances I have 
never known one to be drowned who was 
worth saving." 

Pluck won the American Revolution. It 
has won all fame and all fortune. It makes 
a man a hero, a general, a victor. It has put 
the laurel on every brow that ever wore it. 

Courage to do Right. 

We may have courage, all of us. 

To start at honor's call, 
To meet a foe, protect a friend. 

Or face a cannon ball. 

To show the world one hero lives, 

The foremost in the fight — 
But do we always manifest 

The courage to do right ? 

To answer No ! with steady breath, 

And quick unfaltering tongue, 
When fierce temptation, ever near, 

Her syren song has sung ? 
To care not for the bantering tone, 

The jest, or studied slight : 
Content if we can only have 

The courage to do right ? 
To step aside from fashion's course, 

Or custom's favored plan ; 
To pluck an outcast from the street, 

Or help a fellow man ? 

If not, then let us nobly try, 
Henceforth, with all our might. 

In every case to muster up 
The courage to do right ! 

271 




272 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



273 



The world owes much to its men and 
women of courage. We do not mean physi- 
cal courage, in which man is at least equalled 
by the bull-dog; nor is the bull-dog con- 
.sidered the wisest of his species. 

The courage that displays itself in silent 
effort and endeavor — that dares to endure all 
and suffer all for truth and duty — is more 
truly heroic than the achievements of physi- 
cal valor, which are rewarded by honors and 
titles, or by laurels sometimes steeped in 
blood. 

It is moral courage that characterizes the 
highest order of manhood and womanhood 
— the courage to seek and to speak the 
truth; the courage to be just; the courage 
to be honest ; the courage to resist tempta- 
tion ; the courage to do one's duty. If men 
and women do not possess this virtue, they 
have no security whatever for the preserva- 
tion of any other. 

An Upward Struggle. 

Every step of progress in the history of 
our race has been made in the face of oppo- 
sition and difficulty, and been achieved and 
secured by men of intrepidity and valor — by 
leaders in the van of thought — by great dis- 
covers, great patriots, and great workers in 
all walks of life. There is scarcely a great 
truth or doctrine but has had to fight its way 
to public recognition in the face of detrac- 
tion, calumny, and persecution. Wherever 
a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, 
there also is a Golgotha. 

While the followers of the astronomer 
Copernicus were persecuted as infidels, Kep- 
ler was branded with the stigma of heresy, 
"because," said he, " I take that side which 
seems to me to be consonant with the Word 
of God." Even the pure and simple-minded 
Newton, of whom Bishop Burnet said that he 
had the "whitest soul " he ever knew — who 

18 



was a very infant in the purity of his mmd — 
even Newton was accused of " dethroning the 
Deity " by his sublime discovery of the law 
of gravitation ; and a similar charge was 
made against Franklin for explaining the 
nature of the thunderbolL. 

Spinoza was excommunicated by the Jews, 
to whom he belonged, because of his views 
of philosophy, which were supposed to be 
adverse to religion ; and his life was after- 
wards attempted by an assassin for the same 
reason. Spinoza remained courageous and 
self-reliant to the last, dying in obscruity and 
poverty. 

The Best Things Opposed. 

Indeed, there has scarcely been a discov- 
ery in astronomy, in natural history, or in 
physical science, that has not been attacked 
by the bigoted and narrow-minded as leading 
to infidelity. 

Other great discoverers, though they may 
not have been charged with irreligion, have 
had not less obloquy of a professional and 
public nature to encounter. When Dr. Har- 
vey published his theory of the circulation of 
the blood, his practice fell off, and the medi- 
cal profession stigmatized him as a fool. 
"The few good things I have been able to 
do," said John Hunter, "have been accom- 
plished with the greatest difficulty, and 
encountered the greatest opposition." 

Sir Charles Bell, while employed in his 
important investigations as to the nervous 
system, which issued in one of the greatest 
of physiological discoveries, wrote to a friend : 
"If I were not so poor, and had not so many 
vexations to encounter, how happy would I 
be ! " But he himself observed that his prac- 
tice sensibly fell off after the publication of 
each successive stage of his discovery. 

Thus nearly every enlargement of the 
domain of knowledge, which has made us 



L 



274 



COURAGE. 



better acquainted with the heavens, with the 
•earth, and with ourselves, has been established 
hy the energy, the devotion, the self-sacrifice, 
and the courage of the great spirits of past 
times, who, however much they have been 
opposed or reviled by their contemporaries, 
now rank among those whom the enlightened 
.of thfe human race most delight to honor. 

Charity for All. 

Nor is the unjust intolerence displayed 
towards men of science in the past without 
its lesson for the present. It teaches us to 
•be forbearant towards those who differ from 
us, provided they observe patiently, think 
honestly, and ut'.er their convictions freely 
and truthfu^'^. It was a remark of Plato, 
that " the world is God's epistle to mankind ; " 
.and to read and study that epistle, so as to 
elicit its true meaning, can have no other 
effect on a well-ordered mind than to lead to 
a deeper impression of his power, a clearer 
perception of his wisdom, and a more grate- 
ful sense of his goodness. 

While such has been the courage of the 
tmartyrs of science, not less glorious has been 
the courage of the martyrs of faith. The 
passive endurance of the man or woman who, 
for conscience' sake, is found ready to suffer 
and to endure in solitude, without so much 
as the encouragement of even a single sym- 
pathizing voice, is an exhibition of courage 
of a far higher kind than that displayed in 
the roar of battle, where even the weakest 
feels encouraged and inspired by the 
enthusiasm of sympathy and the power of 
jiumbers. 

Time would fail to tell of the deathless 
names of those who through faith in princi- 
ples, and in the face of difficulty, danger, 
and suffering, "have wrought righteousness 
and waxed valiant " in the moral warfare of 
the world,, and been content to lay down 



their lives rather than prove false to their 
conscientious convictions of the truth. 

Men of this stamp, inspired by a high 
sense of duty, have in past times exhibited 
character in its most heroic aspects, and 
continue to present to us some of the noblest 
spectacles to be seen in history, Even 
women, full of tenderness and gentleness, 
not less than men, have in this cause been 
found capable of exhibiting the most unflinch- 
ing courage. Such, for instance, as that of 
Anne Askew, who, when racked until her 
bones were dislocated, uttered no cry, moved 
no muscle, but looked her tormentors calmly 
in the face, and refused either to confess or 
to recant ; or such as that of Latimer and 
Ridley, who, instead of bewailing their hard 
fate and beating their breasts, went as cheer- 
fully to their death as a bridegroom to the 
altar — the one bidding the other to " be of 
good comfort," for that "we shall this day 
Hght such a candle in England, by God's 
grace, as shall never be put out ; " or such, 
again, as that of Mary Dyer, the Quakeress, 
hanged by the Puritans of New England for 
preaching to the people, who ascended the 
scaffold with a willing step, and, after calmly 
addressing those who stood about, resigned 
herself into the hands of her persecutors, and 
died in peace and joy. 

"The Field is Won." 

Not less courageous was the behavior of 
the good Sir Thomas More, who marched 
willingly to the scaffold, and died cheerfully 
there, rather than prove false to his conr- 
science. When More had made his final 
decision to stand upon his principles, he felt 
as if he had won a victory, and said to his 
son-in-law Roper: "Son Roper, I thank our 
Lord, the field is won ! " The Duke of Nor- 
folk told him of his danger, saying: "Master 
More, it is perilous striving with princes ; the 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



275 



anger of a prince brings death!" "Is that 
all, my lord?" said More; "then the differ- 
ence between you and me is this — that I 
shall die to-day, and you to-morrow." 

While it has been the lot of many great 
men, in times of difficulty and danger, to be 
cheered and supported by their wives. More 
had no such consolation. His helpmate did 
anything but console him during his impris- 
onment within the old London Tower. She 
could not conceive that there was any suffi- 
cient reason for his continuing to lie there, 
when, by merely doing what the king re- 
quired of him, he might at once enjoy his 
liberty, together with his fine house at Chel- 
sea, his library, his orchard, his gallery, and 
the society of his wife and children. 

A Bitter Reproach. 

"I marvel," said she to him one day," 
"that you, who have been alway hitherto 
taken for wise, should now so play the fool 
as to lie here in this close, filthy prison, and 
be content to be shut up among mice and 
rats, when you might be abroad at your lib- 
erty, if you would but do as the bishops have 
done! " 

But More saw his duty from a different 
point of view : it was not a mere matter of 
personal comfort with him, and the expostu- 
lations of his wife were of no avail. He 
gently put her aside, saying, cheerfully, " Is 
not this house as nigh heaven as my own?" 

More's daughter, Margaret Roper, on the 
contrary, encouraged her father to stand firm 
in his principles, and dutifully consoled and 
cheered him during his long confinement. 
Deprived of pen and ink, he wrote his letters 
to her with a piece of coal, saying in one of 
them : " If I were to declare in writing how 
much pleasure your daughterly, loving let- 
ters gave me, a peck of coals would not suf- 
fice to make the pens." 



More was a martyr to veracity: he would 
not swear a false oath ; and he perished be- 
cause he was sincere. When his head had 
been struck off, it was placed on London 
Bridge, in accordance with the barbarous 
practice of the times. Margaret Roper had 
the courage to ask for the head to be taken 
down and given to her, and, carrying her 
affection for her father beyond the grave, she 
desired that it might be buried with her when 
she died; and, long after, when Margaret 
Roper's tomb was opened, the precious relic 
was observed lying on the dust of what had 
been her bosom. 

The celebrated Mary Lyon, of Mount 
Holyoke Seminary, Mass., one of the noblest 
and best of women, used the following re- 
markable words, which were beautifully illus- 
trated by her life : " There is nothing in the 
universe that I fear, but that I shall not know 
all my duty, or shall fail to do it." The true 
test of courage is, in all circumstances, to 
" dare to do right! " Dare to do Avhat your 
conscience will approve, and will be esteemed 
right by good society. 

Noble Daring. 

Dare to think, though others frown ; 

Dare in words your thoughts express ; 
Dare to rise, though oft cast down ; 

Dare the wronged and scorned to bless. 

Dare from custom to depart ; 

Dare the priceless pearl possess ; 
Dare to wear it next your heart ; 

Dare, when others cvurse, to bless. 

Dare forsake what you deem wrong ; 

Dare to walk in wisdom's way ; 
Dare to give where gifts belong ; 

Dare God's precepts to obey. 

Do what conscience says is right ; 

Do what reason says is best ; 
Do with all your mind and might ; 

Do vour duty and be blest. 




DRUIDS INCITING THE BRITONS TO RESIST THE ROMANS. 



276 



THK CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



277 



Among the ancient Gauls and Britons was 
a powerful priesthood called the Druids. 
They were at once priests, teachers and 
judges; they tried criminals, fixed punish- 
ments, decided all public questions and their 
power was so great that they could decree 
peace with other nations or incite to war, 
never doing the latter, hoAvever, except in 
self-defence and as a last resort. They per- 
formed their religious rites in groves and 
rocky retreats, and among them the oak tree 
was especially sacred. When the Romans 
invaded Britain the Druids incited the people 
to rebellion, did all they could to uphold the 
national cause, and inspired such courage as 
resulted in deeds of valor that have become 
historic. 

And, indeed, history is full of examples of 
this kind of courage. Yet it is moral hero- 
ism that should be especially commended. 
This belongs to the noblest type of manhood. 

Called a Coward. 

One of the most trying tests of a young 
man's virtue arises from an insinuation that 
he is a coward. Upon this subject most 
men are very sensitive, disliking to be con- 
sidered deficient in what they suppose is the 
very essence of real manhood. But, unfortu- 
nately, the test is rarely presented in things 
that are right; the challenge is not to do 
deeds that are noble and worthy of praise, 
but to force the person to do wrong. In this 
way it becomes an influence for mischief that 
produces the saddest effect upon character. 

If a young man refuses to assist in robbing 
an orchard, he is stigmatized, by those who 
hav e no moral principle or manly feeling, as 
a coward; if he is unwilling to drink intoxi- 
cating liquor, or if he declines to violate the 
laws of school or society, his refusal is im- 
puted to dishonorable fear. Many a person 
is driven to do what his judgment and his 



conscience ahke condemn, because he dreads 
that others will not think him brave. Such 
fear is the greatest and basest cowardice. 

Thus there are two kinds of courage, 
physical and moral; the former finds its 
highest type in the bull-dog, while the latter 
is illu.strated by those persons who have suf- 
fered martyrdom rather than sacrifice their 
love of right and conscientious convictions 
of truth. 

Human Brutes. 

An English dog-breeder, who possessed a 
race of terriers of remarkable ferocity and 
endurance, offered to bet a large sum of 
money, that when a certain dog, which he 
owned, was engaged in fighting, he coulJ 
cut off three of his legs, and the dog would 
not give up or relinquish his hold. The bet 
was taken, and the dogs were set to, when 
the poor brute actually suffered one leg to be 
taken off after another, and finally suffered 
death rather than cease to fight. 

It is hard to say which was the greatei 
object of pity, the poor dog, whose savage 
instincts led him to suffer and die rather than 
let go his hold, or the brutal, vicious master 
who could engage in such wicked cruelty 
and call it sport. We wonder at the fero- 
cious instinct of the bull-terrier and remem- 
ber that while he possesses physical courage 
in so remarkable a degree, there is nothing 
else in him that in any way commends him 
to our admiration. He is cross, unsociable, 
untractable, unreliable, and vicious ; he is 
among dogs what the prize-fighter or the 
professed pugilist is among men — the mean- 
est and most unworthy animal of his kind. 

The person who, for money or the love of 
notoriety, permits himself to engage in an 
encounter, in which he will receive and inflict 
serious and sometimes fatal injuries, possesses 
no quality that raises him in any degree above 



k 



278 



COURAGE. 



a brute. In such an exhibition, the bull-dog 
is his equal and the hyena is his superior. 
Many a man can even enter a battle, and in 
the excitement of the conflict, surrounded by 
his friends and backers, fight ferociously, 
receive wounds, and dare death, who has not 
a particle of that high moral courage which 
would lead him to suffer insult and injury 
and endure them silently for the sake of a 
principle. It is often a braver thing to be 
called a coward and not resent it than it 
would be to fight a battle. 

Bad men are not always brave. During 
the civil war a regiment was raised in one 
of the northern cities composed entirely of 
those men who had become notorious as 
street bullies, and who were always promi- 
nent in drunken brawls and fights. It was 
supposed that they would make capital 
soldiers, and great hopes were excited that 
they would distinguish themselves by their 
fearlessness and contempt of danger and 
death. 

A Worthless Rabble. 

As might have been reasonably expected, 
they utterly failed to make any honorable 
record. How could they? They were not 
actuated by any principle of honor; they 
did not enter the army from motives of duty 
or patriotism, or love for the cause they 
engaged to defend. The excitement of army 
life and the hope of bounty and plunder 
were their only motives. They could kill 
a man at night in the city and rob him, but 
as soldiers they were cowardly, unreliable 
and worthless. It needs more than rough, 
coarse, fierce brutality to give a person a 
character for courage. 

True courage is a combination of moral 
and physical qualities, so united as to secure 
the noblest character. A pure conscience, 
a clear, intelligent mind, and a strong body 



are necessary to the highest form of cour- 
ageous manhood. A man may have a 
moral courage which would enable him to 
dare any consequences to do right, and, 
at the same time, a physical weakness 
which would shrink at the slightest pain. 
Of such a combination martyrs have often 
been made, but the moral heroism overcame 
the fear of death and the pangs of torture. 

Fear of Ridicule. 

A really brave man never exposes himself 
needlessly to danger, and if unhappily en- 
trapped in a quarrel, he will always refuse to 
fight until compelled in self-defense. He will 
suffer insult and indignity, permit himself to 
be called hard names and to be misrepre- 
sented, rather than allow hatred and murder 
to enter his heart, or do that which in his 
calmer moments he would abhor. For- 
bearance is a divine attribute, and worthy 
of special cultivation. It is the coward 
that is driven by his fears of ridicule to 
do that which he knows is wrong. 

We have heroes in every-day life. A boy 
in the town of Weser, in Germany, playing 
one day with his sister, four years of age, 
was alarmed by the cry of some men who 
were in pursuit of a mad dog. The boy, 
suddenly looking round, saw the dog run- 
ning toward him, but instead of making his 
escape, he calmly took off his coat, and, 
wrapping it round his arm, boldly faced the 
dog. Holding out the arm covered with the 
coat, the animal attacked it and worried it 
until the men came up and killed the dog. 

The men reproachfully asked the boy why 
he did not run and avoid the dog, which he 
could so easily have done. "Yes," said the 
little hero, " I could have run from the dog, 
but if I had he would have attacked my 
sister. To protect her, I offered him my 
coat, that he might tear it." 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



279 



A similar case of heroism occurred in the 
city of Evansville, Indiana, in which Emma 
Carroll, a httle girl eleven years old, ran 
through the flames of burning kerosene and 
rescued, at the expense of her life, her 
motherless baby brother, of whom she had 
the care. In the terrible agony of her dying 
hours, she was consoled with the thought 
that the baby had escaped unharmed. She 
had saved him. And she showed that one 
of the gentler sex may be as brave as the 
stout-hearted fireman who surprises us by 
his deeds of daring. 

Education in courage is not usually in- 
cluded among the branches of female train- 
ing, and yet it is really of much greater 
importance than either music, French, or 
the use of the globes. Contrary to the 
view that women should be characterized 
by a "tender fear," and an " inferiority which 
makes her lovely," we would have women 
educated in resolution and courage, as a 
means of rendering them more helpful, more 
self-reUant, and vastly more useful and happy. 

Gentleness and Courage. 

There is nothing attractive in timidity, 
nothing lovable in fear. All weakness, 
whether of mind or body, is equivalent to 
deformity, and the reverse of interesting. 
Courage is graceful and dignified ; while 
fear, in any form, is mean and repulsive. 
Yet the utmost tenderness and gentleness 
are consistent with courage. 

Ary Scheffer, the artist, once wrote to his 
daughter : " Dear daughter, strive to be of 
good courage, to be gentle-hearted; these 
are the true qualities for woman. ' Troubles ' 
everybody must expect. There is but one 
way of looking at fate — whatever that be, 
whether blessings or afflictions — to behave 
with dignity under both. We must not lose 
heart, or it will be the worse both for our- 



selves and for those whom we love. To 
struggle, and again and again to renew the 
conflict — this is life's inheritance." 

A Brave Heart. 

I said to sorrow's awful storm, 

That beat against my breast, 
" Rage on ! Thou may'st destroy this form. 

And lay it low at rest ; 
But still the spirit that now brooks 

Thy tempest raging high, 
Undaunted on its fury looks 

With steadfast eye." 

I said to penury's meagre train, 

' ' Come on ! your threats I brave ; 
My last poor life-drop you may drain,. 

And crush me to the grave ; 
Yet still the spirit that endures 

Shall mock your force the while. 
And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours 

With bitter smile. ' ' 

I said to cold neglect and scorn, 

' ' Pass on ! I heed you not ; 
Ye may pursue me till my form 

And being are forgot ; 
Yet still the spirit which 3'ou see, 

Undaunted by your wiles. 
Draws from its own nobility 

Its high-born smiles." 

I said to friendship's menaced blow, 

" Strike deep ! my heart shall bear ; 
Thou canst but add one bitter woe 

To those already there ; 
Yet still the spirit that sustains 

This last severe distress. 
Shall smile upon its keenest pains, 

And scorn redress." 

I said to death's uplifted dart, 

"Aim sure ! Oh ! why delay ? 
Thou wilt not find a fearful heart — 

A weak, reluctant prey ; 
For still the spirit, firm and free, 

Unrufled by this last dismay, 
Wrapt in its own eternity. 

Shall pass away." 

Lavinia Stoddard. 

In sickness or sorrow none are braver 
and less complaining sufferers than women. 
Their courage, where their hearts are con- 



280 



COURAGE. 



cerned, is indeed proverbial. Experience 
has proved that women can be as enduring 
as men under the heaviest trials and calami- 
ties ; but too little pains are taken to teach 
them to endure petty terrors and frivolous 
vexations with fortitude. Such little miseries, 
if petted and indulged, quickly run into sickly 
sensibility, and become the bane of their life, 
keeping themselves and those about them in 
a state of chronic discomfort. 

The best corrective of this condition of 
mind is wholesome moral and mental dis- 
cipline. Mental strength is as necessary for 
the development of woman's character as of 
man's. It gives her capacity to deal with 
the affairs of life, and presence of mind, which 
enable her to act with vigor and effect in 
moments of emergency. Character in a 
woman; as in a man, will always be found 
the best safeguard of virtue, the best nurse 
of religion. Personal beauty soon passes ; 
but beauty of mind and character increases 
in attractiveness the older it grows. 

Heroic Women. 

The courage of woman is not the less true 
because it is for the most part passive. It 
is not encouraged by the cheers of the world, 
for it is mostly exhibited in the quiet recesses 
of private life. Yet there are cases of heroic 
patience and endurance on the part of women 
which occasionally come to the light of day. 
One of the most celebrated instances in his- 
tory is that of Gertrude Von der Wart. Her 
husband, falsely accused of being an accom- 
plice in the murder of Emperor Albert, was 
condemned to the most frightful of all pun- 
ishments — to be broken alive on the wheel. 
With the most profound conviction of her 
husband's innocence, the faithful woman 
stood by his side to the last, watching over 
hi.n during two days and nights, braving 
the empress's anger and the inclemency of 



the weather, in the hope of contributing to 
soothe his dying agonies. 

The sufferings of this noble woman, to- 
gether with those of her unfortunate husband, 
were touchingly described in a letter after- 
wards addressed by her to a female friend, 
which was published some years ago, entitled 
"Gertrude von der Wart; or, " Fidelity unto 
Death." Mrs. Hemans wrote the following 
poem of great pathos and beauty, commemo- 
rating the sad story : 

Gertrude. 

Her hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised, 

The breeze threw back her hair ; 
Up to the fearful wheel she gazed — 

All that she loved was there. 
The night was round her clear and cold, 

The holy heaven above ; 
Its pale stars watching to behold 

The night of earthly love. 

"And bid me not depart," she cried, 
" My Rudolph ! say not so ! 
This is no time to quit thy side — 

Peace, peace ! I cannot go. 
Hath the world aught for me to fear 

When death is on thy brow ? 
The world? — what means it? — ^mine is here-- 
I will not leave thee now ! 

" I have been with thee in thine hour 

O glory and of bliss. 
Doubt not its memory's living power 

To strengthen me through this ! 
And thou, mine honored love and true, 

Bear on, bear nobly on ! 
We have the blessed heaven in view, 

Whose rest shall soon be won. " 

And were not these high words to flow 

From woman's breaking heart ? 
Through all that night of bitterest woe 

She bore her lofty part ; 
But oh ! with such a freezing eye, 

With such a curdling cheek — 
Love, love ! of mortal agony. 

Thou, only thou, shouldst speak ! 

The winds rose high— but with them rose 
Her voice that he might hear ; — 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



281 



Perchance that dark hour brought repose 

To happy bosoms near : 
While she sat striving with despair 

Beside his tortured form , 
And pouring her deep soul in prayer 

Forth on the rushing storm. 

She wiped the death damps from his brow, 

With her pale hands and soft, 
Whose touch upon the lute chords low 

Had stilled his heart so oft. 
She spread her mantle o'er his breast. 

She bathed his lips with dew, 
And on his cheek such kisses pressed 

As joy and hope ne'er knew. 

Oh ! lovely are ye, love and faith, 

Enduring to the last ! 
She had her meed — one smile in death — 

And his worn spirit passed, 
While even as o'er a martyr's grave 

She knelt on that sad spot 
And, weeping, blessed the God who gave 

Strength to forsake it not. 

Fewcia Dorothea Hemans. 

Although success is the prize for which all 
men toil, they have nevertheless often to labor 
on perseveringly, without any glimmer of 
success in sight. They have to live, mean- 
while, upon their courage — sowing their seed, 
it may be, in the dark, in the hope that it 
will yet take root and spring up in achieved 
result. The best of causes have had to fight 
their way to triumph through a long suc- 
cession of failures, and many of the assailants 
have died in the breach before the fortress 
has been won. The heroism they have dis- 
played is to be measured not so much by 
their immediate success, as by the opposition 
they have encountered, and the courage with 
which they have maintained the struggle. 

The patriot who fights an always-losing 
battle — the martyr who goes to death amidst 
the triumphant shouts of his enemies — the 
discoverer, like Columbus, whose heart re- 
mains undaunted through the bitter years of 
his "long wandering woe" — are examples 



of the morally sublime which excite a pro- 
founder interest in the hearts of men that 
even the most complete and conspicuous suc- 
cess. By the side of such instances as these, 
how small in comparison seem the greatest 
deeds of valor, inciting men to rush upon 
death and die amidst the frenzied excitement 
of physical warfare ! 

The pure, heart-searching doctrines which 
were preached by John Knox were then, as 
they are now, offensive to the wicked heart, 
and hence he was commanded by the volup- 
tuous court of Mary to desist. Knox, who 
knew no master and obeyed no mandate that 
was in opposition to God and his Bible, paid 
no attention to this command of the palace. 

Hearing immediately that her orders were 
disobeyed, the haughty Mary summoned the 
Scottish reformer into her presence. When 
Knox arrived he was ushered into the room 
in which were the queen and her attendant 
lords. On being questioned concerning his 
contumacy, he answered plainly that he 
preached nothing but truth, and that he 
dared not preach less. "But," answered 
one of the lords, " our commands must be 
obeyed on pain of death ; silence or the gal- 
lows must be the alternative." 

A Bold Reply. 

The spirit of Knox was roused by the 
dastardly insinuation that any human pun- 
ishment could make him desert the truth, 
and with that fearless, indescribable courage 
which disdains the pomp of language or of 
action, he firmly replied, "My lords, you are 
mistaken if you think you can intimidate me 
to do by threats what conscience and God 
tell me I never shall do; for be it known 
unto you that it is a matter of no importance 
to me, when I have finished my work, 
whether my bones shall bleach in the winds 
of heaven or rot in the bosom of the earth." 



282 



COURAGE. 



Knox having retired, one of the lords said 
to the queen, "We may let him alone, for 
we cannot punish that man." Well, there- 
fore, might it be said by a nobleman at the 
grave of John Knox, "Here lies one who 
never feared the face of man." 

But the greater part of the courage that 
is needed in the world is not of a heroic 
kind. Courage may be displayed in every- 
day life as well as in historic fields of action. 
There needs, for example, the common cour- 
age to be honest — the courage to resist temp- 
tation — the courage to speak the truth — the 
courage to be what we really are, and not to 
pretend to be what we are not — the courage 
to live honestly within our own means, and 
not dishonestly upon the means of others. 

Cannot say "No!" 

A great deal of the unhappiness, and 
much of the vice, of the world is owing 
to weakness and indecision of purpose — 
in other words, to lack of courage. Men 
may know what is right, and yet fail to 
exercise the courage to do it; they may 
understand the duty they have to do, but 
will not summon up the requisite resolution 
to perform it. The weak and undisciplined 
man is at the mercy of every temptation ; he 
cannot say " No," but falls before it. And 
if his companionship be bad, he will be all 
the easier led away by bad example into 
wrong-doing. 

Nothing can be more certain than that the 
character can only be sustained and strength- 
ened by its own energetic action. The will, 
which is the central force of character, must 
be trained to habits of decision — otherwise 
it will neither be able to resist evil nor to 
follow good. Decision gives the power of 
standing firmly, when to yield, however 
slightly, might be only the first step in a 
down-hill course to ruin. 



Many are the valiant purposes formed, 
that end merely in words ; deeds intended, 
that are never done ; designs projected, that 
are never begun ; and all for want of a little 
courageous decision. Better far the silent 
tongue but the eloquent deed. For in life 
and in business, dispatch is better than dis- 
course ; and the shortest answer of all is, 
doing. 

" In matters of great concern, and which 
must be done," says Tillotson, "there is no 
surer argument of a weak mind than irreso- 
lution — to be undetermined when the case is 
so plain and the necessity so urgent. To be 
always intending to live a new life, but never 
to find time to set about it — this is as if a 
man should put off eating and drinking and 
sleeping from one day to another, until he is 
starved and destroyed." 

Busy Mrs. Grundy. 

There needs also the exercise of no small 
degree of moral courage to resist the corrupt- 
ing influences of what is called " society." 
Although "Mrs. Grundy" may be a very 
vulgar and commonplace personage, her 
influence is nevertheless prodigious. Moit 
men, but especially women, are the moral 
slaves of the class or caste to which they 
belong. 

Each circle and section, each rank and 
class, has its respective customs and obser- 
vances, to which conformity is required at 
the risk of being tabooed. Some are im- 
mured within a bastile of fashion, others of 
custom, others of opinion ; and few there are 
who have the courage to think outside their 
sect, to act outside their party, and to step 
out into the free air of individual thought and 
action. We dress, and eat, and follow fashion, 
though it may be at the risk of debt, ruin, 
and misery ; living not so much according 
to our means as according to the supersti- 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



283 



tious observances of our class. Though we 
may speak contemptuously of the Indians 
who flatten their heads, and of the Chinese 
who cramp their toes, we have only to look 
at the deformities of fashion among ourselves, 
to see that the reign of "Mrs. Grundy" is 
universal. 

But moral cowardice is exhibited quite as 
much in public as in private life. It is not 
the man of the noblest character — the highest- 
cultured and best-conditioned man — whose 
favor is now sought, so much as that of the 
lowest man, the least-cultured and worst- 
conditioned man, because of his vote. Even 
men of rank, wealth, and education are seen 
prostrating themselves before the ignorant, 
whose votes are thus to be got. They are 
ready to be unprincipled and unjust rather 
than unpopular. It is so much easier for 
some men to stoop, to bow, and to flatter, 
than to be manly, resolute, and magnanimous ; 
and to yield to prejudices, than run counter 
to them. It requires strength and courage 
to swim against the stream, while any dead 
fish can float with it. 

"If thou canst plan a noble deed, 
And never flag till it succeed, 
Thou in the strife thy heart should bleed, 
Whatever obstacles control, 
Thine hour will come — go on, true soul ! 
Thou'ltwin the prize, thou'lt reach the goal." 

It is the strong and courageous men who 
lead and guide and rule the world. The 



weak and timid leave no trace behind them; 
while the life of a single upright and ener- 
getic man is like a track of light. His ex- 
ample is remembered and appealed to ; and 
his thoughts, his spirit, and his courage con- 
tinue to be the inspiration of succeeding gen- 
erations. 

It is energy — the central element of which 
is will — that produces the miracles of enthu- 
siasm in all ages. Everywhere it is the main- 
spring of what is called force of character, 
and the sustaining power of all great action. 
In a righteous cause the determined man 
stands upon his courage as upon a granite 
block; and, like David, he will go forth to 
meet Goliath, strong in heart though a host 
be encamped against him. 

Courage, Brother! 

Courage, brother ! do not stumble. 
Though thy path be dark as night. 

There's a star to guide the humble ; 
" Trust in God and do the right. " 

Though the road be long and dreary, 

And the end be out of sight ; 
Foot it bravely, strong or weary, 

" Trust in God, and do the right." 

Perish policy and cunning ; 

Perish all that fears the light, . 
Whether losing, whether winning, 

" Trust in God, and do the right." 

Shun all forms of guilty passion. 
Fiends can look like angels bright. 

Heed no custom, school or fashion, 
"Trust in God, and do the right." 

Norman McLeod. 




284 



CHAPTER XVII. 
PATIENCE. 




N ounce of patience is worth a ton 
of fretfulness. Think it over 
and you will see that nothing 
can be done better by impa- 
tience than by its opposite. 
The horse that starts, jerks, 
backs up, frets and sweats and gets white 
with lather, is a poor horse for any kind 
of work. Put your hand on his warm neck. 
Speak gently to him. Quiet him down and 
make friends with him. If you could make 
him understand, you might tell him how 
much better that slow, moping, patient ox 
over the fence is than a horse that is restless 
and vixenish. 

Be calm under all vexations and trials. 
Storms beat down the flowers, hurricanes on 
the sea wreck ships, cyclones on land uproot 
trees, carry houses skyward and leave be- 
hind them destruction and death. It is 
during calm sunshine that harvests grow. 
Anybody can get into a rage; it requires 
more effort and shows a higher type of 
manhood and womanhood to be patient. 
Learn to wait, and be calm while you do it. 
The train stops, you get in a hurry, you 
storm and bluster, but that does not make 
the engine go. 

The man who can calmly wait is master 
of the situation. The writer of these lines 
when a boy thought he would like to have 
a peach-tree, one that he could call his own. 
He took a peach-stone one day and planted 
it on a sunny hillside. The next day he 
went and dug it up to see if it was growing. 



This went on for a week, and he was vexed 
and disappointed to find there was no tree. 
The poor peach-stone, dug up every day, 
had no chance to grow. The world is full 
of impatient people everlastingly digging up 
their work to see if it is growing. 

Macaulay says William, Prince of Orange, 
conceived the vast project of protecting 
Europe from Louis XIV. William had this 
great end ever before him. Toward that end 
he was impelled by a strong passion which 
appeared to him under the guise of a sacred 
duty. Toward that end he toiled with a 
patience resembling, as he once said, the 
patience with which he had once seen a boat- 
man on a canal strain against an adverse 
eddy, often swept back, but never ceasing to 
pull, and content if, by the labor of hours, a 
few yards could be gained. Exploits which 
brought the prince no nearer to his object, 
however glorious they might be in the esti- 
mation of the vulgar, were in his judgment 
boyish vanities, and no part of the real busi- 
ness of life. 

Toiling Years for Success. 

Look at Morse, discoverer of the tele- 
graph. The magnetic principle on which the 
invention depends had been known since 
1774, but Professor Morse was the first to 
apply that principle for the benefit of men. 
He began his experiments in 1832, and five 
years afterward succeeded in obtaining a 
patent on his invention. Then followed 
another long delay ; and it was not until the 

285 



286 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



last day of the session in 1843 that he pro- 
cured from Congress an appropriation of 
;^ 30,000. With that appropriation was con- 
structed, between Baltimore and Washington, 
the first telegraphic line in the world. Per- 
haps no other invention has exercised a more 
beneficent influence on the welfare of the 
human race. 

. Alexander, the Great, hazarded his person, 
by way of exercise for himself and example 
to others. But his friends, in the pride of 
wealth, were so devoted to luxury and ease 
that they considered long marches and cam- 
paigns as a burden, and by degrees came to 
murmur and speak ill of the king. At first 
he bore their censures with great moderation, 
and used to say there was something noble 
in hearing himself ill-spoken of while he was 
doing well. 

And so you learn that patience always 
belongs to great characters. Only little 
people are habitually impatient. They make 
a clatter; so does an empty cart. They 
cannot bear to be crossed. They must have 
everything their own way, and generally it is 
a very poor way. When they die their 
friends have a rest. 

A Modest Plant. 

There is a little plant that grows 

In almost every soil, 
If he who sows the seed bestows 

A little care and toil. 

Its stems no gorgeous blossoms show 

To captivate the eye, — 
Blossoms that greet the morning view, 

And ere the sunset die. 

Ah, no ! though plain as flowers can be, 

'Twas planted here below. 
To keep the world in harmony. 

And aid to bear life's woe. 

Though needful as the constant food 

That daily want supplies, 
Like every other common good, 

We fail the plant to prize : — 



Till absence of it proves its worth. 

And discord holds its sway ; 
And crosses incident to earth. 

Grow heavier every day. 

We call it " Patience," kin to three 

That would redeem the fall. 
Blest Faith, and Hope, and Charity, 

We surely need them all ! 

Mary F. Van Dyck. 

In days of yore there lived in Chester, in 
the State of Pennsylvania, an old gentleman 
who kept a dry-goods store, and was remark- 
able for his imperturbable disposition, so 
much so that no one had ever seen him out 
of temper. This remarkable characteristic 
having become the subject of conversation, 
one of his neighbors, who was something of 
a wag, bet five dollars that he could succeed 
iu ruffling the habitual placidity of the stoic. 

A Cent's Worth of Cloth. 

He accordingly proceeded to his store, 
and asked to see some cloths suitable for a 
coat. One piece was shown to him, and 
then another; a third and a fourth were 
handed from the shelves : this was too 
coarse, the other was too fine ; one was of 
too dark a color, another too light; still 
the old Diogenes continued placid as new 
milk ; and no sooner did his customer start 
an objection to any particular piece, than he 
was met by some other variety being laid 
before him, until the very last piece in the 
shop was unfolded to his view. 

The vender now lost all hope of pleasing 
his fastidious purchaser, when the latter, 
affecting to look at the uppermost piece 
with satisfaction, exclaimed, "Ah, my dear 
sir, you have hit it at last ; this is the very 
thing ; I will take a cent's worth of the pat- 
tern," at the same time laying the money 
plump upon the counter before him, to show 
that he was prompt pay. 



288 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



"You shall have it, my good friend," re- 
plied the merchant, with the utmost serious- 
ness of speech and manners; and then, laying 
the cent upon the surface of the cloth, and 
applying his ample scissors, he cut it fairly 
round to the very size of the money, and, 
wrapping it carefully in paper, made a low 
bow, thanked him for his custom, and hoped 
that he would call at his store when he 
wanted anything in his line again. 

The most beneficent operations of nature 
are the result of patience. The waters slowly 
deposit their rich alluvium ; the fruits are 
months in their growth and perfecting. 

A Saying of Buffon. 

To be wise we must diligently apply our- 
selves, and confront the same continuous 
application which our forefathers did ; for 
labor is still, and ever will be, the inevit- 
able price set upon everything which is 
valuable. We must be satisfied to work 
energetically with a purpose, and wait the 
results with patience. Buffon has even said 
of patience, that it is genius — the power of 
great men, in his opinion, consisting mainly 
in their power of continuous working and 
waiting. All progress, of the best kind, is 
slow ; but to him who works faithfully and 
in a right spirit, be sure that the reward will 
be vouchsafed in its own good time. 

"Courage and industry," says Granville 
Sharpe, " must have sunk in despair, and 
the world must have remained unimproved 
and unornamented, if men had merely com- 
pared the effect of a single stroke of the 
chisel with the pyramid to be raised, or of a 
single impression of the spade with the 
mountains to be leveled." We must con- 
tinuously apply ourselves to right pursuits, 
and we cannot fail to advance steadily, though 
it may be unconsciously. 

Hugh Miller modestly says, in his auto- 



biography : " The only merit to which I lay 
claim is that of patient research — a merit in 
which whoever wills may rival or surpass 
me ; and this humble faculty of patience, 
when rightly developed, may lead to more 
extraordinary developments of idea than even 
genius itself" 

Surely it is wise to learn the lesson of 
patience, as it will help us to see the bright 
side in everything that happens. 

Two gardeners had their crops of peas 
killed by the frost. One of them was very 
impatient under the loss, and fretted about 
it. The other patiently went to work to 
plant a new crop. After awhile the impa- 
tient man came to visit his neighbor. To 
his surprise he found another crop of peas 
growing finely. He asked how this could be. 

"This crop I sowed while you were fret- 
ting," said his neighbor. 

"But don't you ever fret?" he asked. 

"Yes, I do; but I put it off till I have 
repaired the mischief that has been done." 

" Why, then, you have no need to fret at 
all." 

"True," said his friend; "and that's the 
reason why I put it off." 

A Nervous Passenger. 

In one of the crowded eastern-bound trains 
on a western railroad, the patience of the 
passengers was very sorely tried by the loud 
and protracted cries of an infant, which 
appeared to be solely in charge of a man. 
After bearing with the disturbance some 
time, a nervous passenger protested against 
it, and demanded that the baby should be 
properly cared for or removed from the car. 

The protest drew from the gentleman who 
had it in charge the following explanation: 
" Ladies and gentlemen, I am very sorry 
that you have been so seriously incommoded 
by the cric^ of this child; but I beg of you 



PATIENCE. 



28& 



to be patient, and I shall explain. It is an 
orphan; its mother has recently died, and I 
am taking it East to be cared for by its 
friends. The little thing is frightened, as 
the cars, its food, and the care it receives 
are strange to it. I shall do all in my 
power to make it comfortable and prevent 
further annoyance." 

The sympathies of the passengers were 
roused, and they not only showed a willing- 
ness to endure its cries, but raised a hand- 
some sum, by contribution, for its support. 
Forbearance and patience are divine at- 
tributes, and it is our duty to cultivate them 
under all circumstances. 

A good-humored acquiescence, and the 
disposition to make the best out of things 
that are unpleasant, is the true philosophy. 
The habitual grumbler and fault-finder will 
have ample opportunity to indulge his ill- 
natured inclinations while traveling; but 
such a person is a very disagreeable com- 
panion. 

Keep it in Stock. 

There is a better way. Always have a 
good stock of patience on hand. Keep 
your store-room filled with it. There is 
nothing you will want oftener, and nothing 
that will render you better service. Mothers 
■especially want it. Their children often for- 
get that they are little angels. And mothers, 
too, forget sometimes and become very cross. 

"Mother," said a little girl, "does God 
•ever scold?" She had seen her mother, 
under circumstances of strong provocation, 
lose her temper and give way to the impulse 
of passion; and pondering thoughtfully for 
a moment she asked: "Mother, does God 
ever scold ? " 

The question was so abrupt and startling 
that it arrested the mother's attention almost 
with a shock, and she said : " Why, my 



child, what makes you ask such a question? " 
"Because, mother, you have always told 
me that God was good, and that we should 
try and be like him ; and I should like to 
know if he ever scolds." 

"No, my child ; of course not." 
"Well, I'm glad he doesn't, for scolding 
always hurts me, even if I feel I have done 
wrong ; and it doesn't seem to me that I 
could love God very much if he scolded." 

Speaking Hastily. 

The mother felt rebuked before her simple 
child. Never before had she heard so forci- 
ble a lecture on the evils of scolding. The 
words of the child sank deep in her heart, 
and she turned away from the innocent face 
of the little one to hide the tears that gath- 
ered to her eyes. Children are quick ob- 
servers ; and the child, seeing the effect of 
her words, eagerly inquired : 

"Wh}' do you cry, mother? Was it 
naughty for me to say what I said ? " 

" No, my child, it was all right. I was 
only thinking that I might have spoken more 
kindly, and not have hurt your feelings by 
speaking so hastily, and in anger, as I did." 

" Oh, mother, you are good and kind ; 
only I wish there were not so many bad 
things to make you fret and talk as you did 
just now. It makes me feel away from you, 
so far, as if I could not come near you, as I 
could when you speak kindly. And oh, 
sometimes I fear I shall be put off so far I 
can never get back again." 

" No, my child, don't say that," said the 
mother, unable to keep back her tears, as 
she felt how her tones had repelled her little 
one from her heart ; and the child, wonder- 
ing what so affected her parent, but intui- 
tively feeling it was a case requiring sympathy, 
reached up, and throwing her arms about 
her mother's neck, whispered : 



290 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



"Mother, dear mother, do I make you 
cry? Do you love me ? " 

"O yes ! I love you more than I can tell," 
said the parent, clasping the little one to her 
bosom ; "and I will try never to scold again, 
but if I have to reprove my child I will try 
to do it, not in anger, but kindly, deeply as 
I may be grieved that she has done wrong." 

"01 am so glad. I can get so near to 
you if you don't scold. And do you know, 
mother, I want to love you so much, and I 
will try always to be good." 

The lesson was one that deeply moved 
that mother's heart, and has been an aid to 
her for many a year. It impressed the great 
principle of reproving in kindness, not in 
anger, if we would gain the great end of 
reproof — the great end of winning the child, 
at the same time, to what is right, and to the 
parent's heart. 

The Angel of Patience. 

To cheer, to help us, children of the dust, 
More than one angel has Our Father given ; 

But one alone is faithful to her trust, 

The best, the brightest exile out of heaven. 

Her ways are not the ways of pleasantness ; 

Her paths are not the lightsome paths of joy ; 
She walks with wrongs that cannot find redress, 

And dwells in mansions Time and Death destroy. 

She waits until her stem precursor. Care, 
Has lodged on foreheads, open as the mom. 

To plough his deep, besieging trenches there — 
The signs of struggles which the heart has borne. 

But when the first cloud darkens in our sky. 
And face to face with Life we stand alone, 

Silent and swift, behold ! she draweth nigh, 
And mutely makes our sufferings her own. 

Unto rebellious souls, that, mad with fate. 
To question God's eternal justice dare, 

She points above with looks that whisper, " Wait — 
What seems confusion here is wisdom there," 

Daughter of God ! who walkest with us here. 
Who mak'st our every tribulation thine. 

Such light hast thou in Earth's dim atmosphere. 
How must thy seat in heaven exalted shine ! 

Bayard Tayi^oe.. 



I'll 'Wait Awhile Longer. 

I'll wait awhile longer 

Before I despair ; 
Before I sink under 

My burden of care. 
Night cannot last always — 

There must be a morn ; 
So I'll wait for the daylight, 

And watch for the dawn. 

I'll wait awhile longer ; 

To-morrow may be 
The brightest and fairest 

Of morrows to me. 
The birds may be singing, 

The blossoms may start 
In bloom and in beauty : 

Be patient, O heart ! 

I'll wait awhile longer 

Before I g^ve up ; 
I'll drink, if it may be. 

The dregs from the cup. 
Still watching, still hoping. 

Still longing for day, 
I'll wait awhile longer. 

And waiting, I'll pray. 

See what patient industry can accomplish 
Here are a few examples. 

A few years ago there was a young 
mechanic in a machine shop in New Haven,. 
Connecticut. There came a business de- 
pression and the men were thrown out of 
work. This young man went to his em- 
ployers, told them he could not afford to be 
idle, and asked permission to go to the shop 
and make lathes. He would patiently wait 
for the time to come when they could be 
sold and would ask only a reasonable com- 
mission on his work. 

The employers were pleased at such ai 
suggestion as this, and let the young me- 
chanic have his way. So while his old, 
shopmates were loitering around he every 
morning was seen going to the shop, his tin 
dinner pail in his hand, and some of them 
reviled him for working on trust. 

When the good times came the lathes that 



PATIENCE. 



291 



he had builded were sold, he received cash 
for his time and a percentage, so that he 
found himself possessed of about a thousand 
dollars, enough to pay the tradesmen what 
he owed and to leave a little surplus for the 
bank. 

A capitalist had seen this mechanic going 
to work in those dismal times, and being 
interested made inquiry about him, and when 
the employers told this capitalist his story, he 
scvught out the mechanic and offered to lend 
him a little money to go into the manufactur- 
ing business himself Thus he became his 
own employer and the employer of a few 
hands, the number of which was increased 
from year to year until by and by he had as 
many as a thousand working for him. 

Elected Mayor. 

The qualities that had prevailed in his 
favor as a workingman and as an employer 
of labor brought to him the respect of the 
community, so that by and by he was named 
as the candidate of one of the parties for 
Mayor and was elected, although the oppos- 
ing party usually prevailed in that city by as 
much as a majority of three thousand. 

Then again his party named him as its 
candidate for Governor, and thus twenty-five 
years after he was a mechanic swinging his 
tin dinner pail upon the streets he became 
Governor of Connecticut. That was the way 
that patient industry served one who began 
as a humble workingman, the late Governor 
Hobart B. Bigelow. 

Years ago, when the Erie Railroad was 
more conspicuous among the railroad sys- 
tems of the country than it is now, a young 
man was employed at a way station in a really 
menial capacity. But he did his work well, 
so that he received some slight promotion. 

Thus little by little he was promoted until 
he had some charge of the local freight 



traffic. He did not give grudgingly of his 
time, but even in his leisure studied how to 
improve that business for the benefit of the 
company. So that it happened by and by 
that the eyes of his employers were fixed 
with interest upon him and he received 
greater promotion. 

In his new field he ran against Commodore 
Vanderbilt, or perhaps the old Commodore 
ran against him, and in that way he was 
brought into the service of the New York 
Central, receiving a considerable salary, and 
then again was promoted until at last he had 
charge of its entire freight traffic, and with a 
salary of ;^ 1 5 ,ooo a year. 

But that was not all. When William H. 
Vanderbilt gave up the presidency of the 
New York Central system this man, who 
had once been a switchman at a way station, 
became his successor, and thus the career of 
the late James H. Rutter, president of the 
New York Central, reveals that there is truth 
in the statement of those who assert that 
opportunity is open to every man in this 
country according to his ability, his purpose 
and his patient industry. 

Beginning Life in Poverty. 

It is believed to be a safe estimate that a 
very large majority of the merchants in New 
York city and in other cities, who are not 
only successful but pre-eminently successful, 
began life practically without a dollar. Of 
course, there are some old houses, the tradi- 
tions, possessions and business of which have 
descended from father to son. But these are 
the exceptions even in New York. The 
greater retail business houses were in nearly 
every case established by young men who 
had scarcely any capital excepting industry, 
health and ambition. It is said of the pro- 
prietors of the great houses in New York, 
Philadelphia, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Chicago 



292 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and other towns, that nearly all of them 
began life without a dollar. 

Stewart was a poor immigrant when he 
came to this country. Macy, who accumu- 
lated millions before his death, began his 
business life in New York upon a credit of a 
few thousand dollars, and in many cases of 
the establishment of partnerships with these 
successful merchants, these relations were 
made with those who had worked their way 
up by the hardest kind of toil from subor- 
dinate and often menial places. 

Marshall Jewell, Governor of Connecticut, 
Postmaster General, Minister to Russia, capi- 
talist and the employer of labor, began his 
life as an apprentice at the tanner's vats. 
As a journeyman tanner he worked day 
after day over hours, and steeping his arms 
in the chemicals employed for tanning pur- 
poses, he was unable to sleep at night unless 
his arms were bare, and that habit he retained 
until the day of his death. 

These examples show what can be accom- 
plished by patient continuance in well doing. 
Suppose these men had tried the short cut 
to fame and fortune ; we would never have 
heard of them. They knew how to work 
and wait. 

A Patient Mother. 

" I remember," says John Wesley, " hear- 
ing my father say to my mother, 'How 
could you have the patience to tell that 
blockhead the same thing twenty times over?' 
'Why,' said she, 'if I had told him but nine- 
teen times, I should have lost all my labor.' " 

The world was created during epochs of 
time. Rome was not built in a day. You 
did not grow to man's stature over night. 
There is seed-time and afterward harvest. 
Do not think that everything can come at 
once. Possess your soul in patience. Do 
not expect impossibilities, but simply the 



possible, for which proper efforts have been 
made. Patience is not in conflict with 
enthusiasm. The one is co-partner with 
the other. Neither will get far without 
the other. Together they are invincible. 

Most of us have had troubles all our 
lives, and each day has brought more evil 
than we wished to endure. But if we were 
asked to recount the sorrows of our lives, 
how many could we remember? How many 
that are six months old should we think 
worthy to be remembered or mentioned? 
To-day's troubles look large, but a week 
hence they will be forgotten and buried 
out of sight. 

Making Troubles of Trifles. 

If you would keep a book, and every day 
put down the things that worry you, and 
see what becomes of them, it would be a 
benefit to you. You allow a thing to annoy 
you, just as you allow a fly to settle on you 
and plague you ; and you lose your temper 
(or rather get it; for when men are sur- 
charged with temper they are said to have 
lost it) ; and you justify yourselves for being 
thrown off your balance by causes which 
you do not trace out. But if you would see 
what it was that threw you off your balance 
before breakfast, and put it down in a little 
book, and follow it out, and ascertain what 
becomes of it, you would see what a fool 
you were in the matter. 

The art of forgetting is a blessed art, but 
the art of overlooking is quite as important. 
And if we should take time to write down 
the origin, the progress, and outcome of a 
few of our troubles, it would make us so 
ashamed of the fuss we make over them, 
that we should be glad to drop such things 
and bury them at once in eternal forgetful- 
ness. Life is too short to be worn out in 
petty worries, frettings, hatreds, and vexa- 



PATIENCE. 



293 



tions. Let us think only on whatsoever 
things are pure, and lovely, and gentle, and 
of good report. 

W^orking and "Waiting. 

A husbandman who many years 
Had ploughed his field and sown in tears, 
Grew weary with his doubts and fears : 
"I toil in vain ! these rocks and sands 
Will yield no harvest to my hands, 
The best seeds rot in barren lands. 
My drooping vine is withering ; 
No promised grapes its blossoms bring ; 
No birds among the branches sing ; 
My flock is dying on the plain ; 
The heavens are brass — they yield no rain ; 
The earth is iron, — I toil in vain ! " 

While yet he spake, a breath had stirred 
His drooping vine, like wing of bird. 
And from its leaves a voice he heard: 
"The germs and fruits of life must be 
Forever hid in mystery. 
Yet none can toil in vain for Me. 
A mightier hand, more skilled than thine, 
Must hang the clusters on the vine. 
And make the fields with harvest shine. 
Man can but work ; God can create : 
But they who work, and watch, and wait, 
Have their reward, though it come late. 
Look up to heaven ! behold, and hear 
The clouds and thunderings in thy ear — 
An answer to thy doubts and fear." 

He looked, and lo ! a cloud-draped car, 
With trailing smoke and flames afar, 
Was rushing from a distant star ; 
And every thirsty flock and plain 
Was rising up to meet the rain, 
That came to clothe the fields with grain ; 
And on the clouds he saw again, 
The covenant of God with men. 
Rewritten with his rainbow pen : 
"Seed-time and harvest shall not fail. 
And though the gates of hell assail. 
My truth and promise shall prevail ! " 

Understanding something of God's un- 
conquerable patience, we shall have patience 
with men that nothing can overcome. See- 
ing how his rain and sunshine are freely 
given to the evil and unthankful, we learn 
to measure our giving not by men's deserts 



but by their needs. As it grows upon us 
that the whole vast system of nature and 
providence, is regulated in every part by 
the one central force of love, we learn to 
make the same force central and sovereign: 
in our lives. 

Patience is the guardian of faith, the pre- 
server of peace, the cherisher of love, the 
teacher of humility. Patience governs the 
flesh, strengthens the spirit, stifles anger, ex- 
tinguishes envy, subdues pride ; she bridles- 
the tongue, refrains the hand, tramples upoa 
temptations, endures persecutions, consum- 
mates martyrdom. Patience produces unity 
in the church, loyalty in the state, harmony 
in families and societies; she comforts the 
poor and moderates the rich; she makes us 
humble in prosperity, cheerful in adversity, 
unmoved by calumny and reproach ; she 
teaches us to forgive those who have injured 
us, and to be first in asking forgiveness of 
those whom we have injured; she delights 
the faithful, and invites the unbelieving ; she 
adorns the woman, and improves the man; 
is loved in a child, praised in a young man, 
admired in an old man ; she is beautiful in 
either sex and every age. 

Recipe for Peace of Mind. 

The great remedy which heaven has put 
in our hands is patience, by which, though 
we cannot lessen the torments of the body, 
we can in a great measure preserve the peace 
of the mind, and shall suffer only the natural 
and genuine force of an evil, without height- 
ening its acrimony or prolonging its effects. 

The chief security against the fruitless 
anguish of impatience must arise from fre- 
quent reflection on the wisdom and goodness 
of the God of nature, in whose hands are 
riches and poverty, honor and disgrace, 
pleasure and pain, and life and death. A 
settled conviction of the tendency of every- 



i 



294 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



thing to our good, and of the possibility of 
turning miseries into happiness, by receiving 
them rightly, will incline us to bless the name 
■of the Lord whether he gives or takes away. 
But what a lovely sight it is to behold a 
, person burdened with many sorrows, and 
'perhaps his flesh upon him has pain and 
anguish, while his soul mourns within him : 
yet his passions are calm, he possesses his 
spirit in patience, he takes kindly all the re- 
lief that his friends attempt to afford him, nor 
does he give them any grief or uneasiness 
but what they feel through the force of mere 
sympathy and compassion! Thus, even in 
the midst of calamities, he knits the hearts 
of his friends faster to himself, and lays 
greater obligations upon their love by so 
lovely and divine a conduct under the weight 
of his heavy sorrows. 

Conquer Yourself. 
Be patient with your friends. They are 
neither omniscient nor omnipotent. They 
cannot see your heart, and may misunder- 
stand you. They do not know what is best 
for you, and may select what is worst. Their 
arms are short, and may not be able to reach 
what you ask. What if also they lack purity 
of purpose or tenacity of affection ; do not 
you also lack these graces? Patience is your 
refuge. Endure, and in enduring conquer 
them, and if not them, then at least yourself 
Above all, be patient with your beloved. 
Love is the best thing on the earth, but it 
is to be handled tenderly, and impatience is 
a nurse that kills it. 

It has been contended by high authority, 
" that few men die of age, and that almost 
all are victims of disappointment, passional, 
^iOr mental, or bodily toil, or of accident." 
'This may not be true to the full extent, but 
it is measurably so. A large portion of 
mankind wear themselves out by unneces- 



sary excitement. They fret, fume and vex, 
and absolutely shorten their days. They 
strain the human machine, until its cords 
snap and break. They overtask the intel- 
lectual faculties, until at last they falter and 
fail. And thus it is that moral suicide is 
committed. 

Feverish Impatience. 

The study of life, and the best means of 
prolonging it, are not sufficiently attended 
to. A large portion of the human family 
are too impulsive. They are nervous, rest- 
less, feverish, and excited. They cannot 
wait for the ordinary progress of events. 
They rush on recklessly and impatiently, 
become anxious and eager, and thus they 
lose, not only the balance of mind, but the 
absolute control of the physical man. 

This is especially the case in this country, 
and hence, as compared with some portions 
of the old world, our average duration of life 
is quite Hmited. Thousands, we repeat, 
perish every year, through feverish anxiety 
and unnecessary excitement. They are not 
disposed to be calm, patient, and resolute, 
and to pursue an even and correct course ; 
but they seek to accomplish a certain end by 
a sudden movement. They are not satisfied 
with ascending the ladder of fame or fortune, 
step by step, but bound upward, three or 
four rounds at a time, and thus they often 
lose their grasp or foothold, and are dashed 
to the earth. We overtask our strength, 
assume fearful responsibilities, and nurse 
consuming anxieties. Many fancy that they 
must be here, there and everywhere, that no 
work can get on without them, that their 
counsel, their efforts, and their direct inter- 
ference, are absolutely essential. 

And thus they toil on from day to day, 
and from year to year, until at last the delu- 
sion and the error are dispelled, by realizing 



PATIENCE. 



295 



the startling fact, that they too are fallible, 
and that the physical or mental man has 
given way, before unnecessarily assumed 
responsibilities and anxieties. Then comes 
the hour of self-reproach, of regret and peni- 
tence. But, alas ! who shall bring back the 
rosy hue of health to the cheek of the con- 
sumptive, impart fresh strength to the totter- 
ing step of premature age, or re-illumine the 
flickering and fading light of intellect ? 

Be patient with your pains and cares. We 
know it is easy to say and hard to do. But 
you must be patient. These things are 



killed by enduring them, and made strong 
to bite and sting by feeding them with frets 
and fears. There is no pain or care that can 
last long. None of them shall enter the city 
of God. A little while and you shall leave 
behind you the whole troop of howling 
troubles, and forget in your first sweet hour 
of rest that such things were on earth. 

Never lose your confidence that matters 
will come right in the end. The world is 
governed better than any of us could govern 
it. If we wait and labor, we cannot suffer 
beyond remedy. 



As at their work two weavers sat, 
Beguiling time with a friendly chat, 
They touched upon the price of meat, 
So high, a weaver scarce could eat. 



THE TWO WEAVERS. 

For where's the middle? where's the border? 
Thy carpet now is all disorder." 



" What with my brats and sickly wife," 
Quoth Dick, "I'm almost tired of life ; 
So hard my work, so poor my fare, 
'Tis more than mortal man can bear. 

" How glorious is the rich man's state ! 
His bouse so fine, his wealth so great ! 
Heaven is unjust, you must agree ; 
Why all to him ? Why none to me ? 

*'In spite of what the Scripture teaches, 
In spite of all the parson preaches, 
This world (indeed I've thought so long) 
Is ruled, methinks, extremely wrong. 

"Where'er I look, howe'er I range, 
'Tis all confused and hard and strange ; 
The good are troubled and oppressed, 
And all the wicked are the blessed." 

<2uoth John, " Our ignorance is the cause 
Why thus we blame our Maker's laws ; 
Parts of His ways alone we know ; 
'Tis all that man can see below. 

" See'st thou that carpet, not half done. 
Which thou, dear Dick, hast well begun ? 
Behold the wild confusion there. 
So rude the mass it makes one stare ! 

" A stranger, ignorant of the trade. 
Would say, no meaning's there conveyed; 



Quoth Dick, ' ' My work is yet in bits. 
But still in every part it fits ; 
Besides, you reason like a lout — 
Why man, that carpet's inside out." 

Says John, "Thou say'st the thing I mean. 
And now I hope to cure thy spleen ; 
This world, which clouds thy soul with doubt. 
Is but a carpet inside out. 

"As when we view these shreds and ends. 
We know not what the whole intends ; 
So, when on earth, things look but odd, 
They're working still some scheme of God, 

" No plan, no pattern, can we trace ; 
All wants proportion, truth, and grace ; 
The motley mixture we deride, 
Nor see the beauteous upper side. 

' ' But when we reach that world of light. 
And view those works of God aright, 
Then shall we see the whole design, 
And own the Workman is Divine. 

" What now seem random strokes, will there 

All order and design appear ; 

Then shall we praise what here we spurned, 

For then the carpet shall be turned." 

"Thou'rt right," quoth Dick ; " nomore I'll grumble 

That this sad world's so strange a jumble • 

My impious doubts are put to flight. 

For my own carpet sets me right." 

Hannah Mors. 




THE LAST HOPE. 



296 



CHAPTBR XVIII. 
HOPE. 




EN sentenced to imprison- 
I . ™p)p^ ■ y ment for life seldom give 
'PlWmW.lW '^ up the hope of some day- 
procuring their liberty. 
This is observed by the 
wardens of all our prisons. 
By a reprieve through the 
intercessions of friends, or 
by a lucky escape, such prisoners flatter 
themselves that they will leave the prison 
bars behind them. And this hope sustains 
them, makes them comparatively cheerful, 
enables them to do their work without com- 
plaint, and submit peacefully to discipline. 
Without hope they would soon grow sullen, 
give way to despair, become desperate and 
would attempt self-destruction. 

How true it is that " hope springs eternal 
in the human breast." It is the friend of 
the weary, the disconsolate, the sorrowing. 
" Hope on, hope ever," is the charmer that 
brings rest to the feverish pillow, comfort to 
the , stricken heart, strength to the fainting 
toiler, and turns shadows into sunshine. 

Hope is an angel. Her eyes are bright as 
morning. Her lips smile and her face glows. 
Her step has the spring of yoiith. She 
bounds like the swift gazelle. There is 
sweeter music in her voice than that of any 
Patti who charms thousands with bird-like 
melodies. She is never weary and shadows 
never darken her brow. She has the fresh- 
ness of early dew about her; her movements 
are nimble and she plays as young lambs 
skip in the green pastures. 

When we are downcast she comes with 



k 



good cheer. Like charity, she never faileth. 
No sickness can alarm her. No night caa 
make her timid. Tears only draw her 
nearer. Misfortune has no terrors for her. 
She is the friend of the rich and poor. She 
dawns on every eye, crosses every path,, 
holds out her hand to every sufferer, paints 
victory on every cloud. Her triumphs are 
grander than those of generals. She does 
not halt ; mountains are plains to her. She 
nerves the shrinking heart and fires the lan- 
guid spirit. 

Hope paints her palace on the hilltop and' 
from its beaming turrets gleams a light that 
kindles every eye. We press toward the 
open gates. Through winding passages and. 
thick shadows we still see the glory a little- 
beyond. We droop in sorrow, but, lifting 
our eyes, the tears dry. The winter flees 
away ; the summer comes and the singing of 
birds. 

When You May Hope. 

But there must be some foundation for 
hope, and there must be action too. You 
must be wide-awake, up and doing, your 
foot forward, your eye keen, your valor 
aroused, your nerves taut, your "face set 
like a flint," your powers called into action. 
Then you have good reason to hope. 

There are people who hope, but they are 
doing this kind of business on an amount of 
capital that would not start a boot-black or 
set up a peanut stand. It is all sand under 
them, nothing soHd. They can hope on 
nothing. Idle, lazy, dull, shiftless, they are 
297 



-298 



HOPE. 



hoping " something will turn up," but it 
never does and never will, until they go 
and turn it up for themselves. And so they 
■drag on year after year, and the end of every 
year finds them no farther along than the 
last one did. They do nothing but hope, 
and that is the poorest-paying business any 
mortal ever got into. Sell it out, give it 
away, get rid of it somehow. There is noth- 
ing in it but disappointment. 

How many men have tried to invent a 
perpetual motion, and all the time have been 
hoping to succeed. One man in Georgia 
spent thirty years at this kind of nonsense ; 
the only perpetual motion he discovered was 
a hope never realized. If such visionaries 
only knew that a perpetual motion is con- 
trary to the laws of nature, they would 
suddenly part with a false expectation, and 
perhaps be of some use in the world. They 
will succeed when the laws of God forget 
themselves and cease to operate. And there 
are multitudes of hopes that are founded on 
a lack of knowledge, and are therefore delu- 
sive. 

Tired of the Old Farm. 

For this reason hope does not have a fair 
chance. It is not realized simply because 
immutable laws are against it. If we were 
wiser, we would hope better. Here is a 
young man who hopes to get rich. He is 
tired of work on the old farm. It is the 
same old humdrum. He is soft-skinned; 
his hands have a way of blistering every 
time he does any work. It is dull business, 
this holding a plow and sawing wood. He 
has read of men who speculated, started with 
nothing, got rich, bought railroads, owned 
yachts, kept fast horses, lived in style, wore 
a new neck-tie every day. Their patent 
leathers are very different from his old cow- 
hide boots, and he is not going to stand it. 



He will be as rich as they some day; he 
has no doubt about it. Yet, what has he to 
build this hope upon ? He has no capital, 
no experience, no knowledge of business, no 
tact, perhaps very little natural ability. 

This is not saying that there should be 
no ambition or determination to rise in the 
world. It is saying that a young man 
should be hard-headed, should have com- 
mon sense, undertake only what he can 
carry out, and base his expectations on 
facts. I knew a man who thought he had 
constructed a flying-machine. He was going 
to fly. He climbed to the top of the barn 
and tried it. It is worthy of remark that 
after he recovered from a cracked skull and 
a few broken bones he did not try it again. 

Fulton and his Steamboat. 

And so history is, to a large extent, the 
record of disappointments. In 1803 the 
first steamboat of Livingston and Fulton 
was built in France upon the Seine. When 
she was almost ready for the experimental 
trip a misfortune befell her which would 
have dampened the ardor of a man less 
determined than Fulton. Rising one morn- 
ing, after a sleepless night, a messenger from 
the boat, with horror and despair written 
upon his countenance, burst into his pres- 
ence, exclaiming : " O, sir ! the boat has 
broken in pieces and gone to the bottom!" 

For a moment Fulton was utterly over- 
whelmed. Never in his whole life, he used 
to say, was he so near despairing as then. 
Hastening to the river, he found, indeed, that 
the weight of the machinery had broken the 
framework of the vessel, and she lay on the 
bottom of the river, in plain sight, a mass of 
timber and iron. Instantly, with his own 
hands, he began the work of raising her, and 
kept at it, without food or rest, for twenty- 
four hours — an exertion which permanently 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



299 



-injured his health. His death in the prime 
-of life was, in all probability, remotely caused 
"by the excitement, exposure, and toil of that 
terrible day and night. 

Washington Irving in his "Life of Colum- 
bus" relates that on one occasion the great 
navigator w^as sorely disappointed. While 
Columbus, his pilot, and several of his ex- 
perienced mariners were studying the map, 

-and endeavoring to make out from it their 
actual position, they heard a shout from the 
Pinta, and looking up, beheld Martin Alonzo 
Pinzon mounted on the stem of his vessel 

-crying, "Land! land! Sehor, I claim my 
reward ! " He pointed at the same time to 

"the southwest, where there was indeed an 

.appearance of land at about twenty-five 

.leagues' distance. 

Nothing but a Cloud. 

Upon this Columbus threw himself on his 
knees and returned thanks to God ; and 
Martin Alonzo repeated the Gloria in excelsis, 
in which he was joined by his own crew and 
that of the admiral. The seamen now 
mounted to the masthead or climbed about 
the rigging, straining their eyes in the direc- 
~tion pointed out. The morning light, how- 
• ever, put an end to all their hopes, as to a 
dream. The fancied land proved to be 
nothing but an evening cloud, and had 
vanished in the night. 

It is not certain, however, that the disap- 
pointments of to-day will not give place to 
realized hope to-morrow. Columbus was 
: not discouraged ; in fact nothing could turn 
him back, and hope had its final reward. 

When Cicero stood for the praetorship he 
had many competitors who were persons of 
distinction, and yet he was returned first. 
As a president in the courts of justice he 
acted with great integrity and honor. Li- 
-cinius Macer, who had great interest of his 



own, and was supported, beside, with that of 
Crassus, was accused before him of some 
default with respect to money. He had so 
much confidence in his own influence and 
the activity of his friends, that when the 
judges were going to decide the cause, it is 
said he went home, cut his hair, and put on 
a white habit, as if he had gained the victory, 
and was about to return so equipped to the 
forum. But Crassus met him in his court- 
yard, and told him that all the judges had 
given a verdict against him ; which affected 
him in such a manner that he turned in 
again, took to his bed, and died. 

King Richard's Crusade. 
Richard I, king of England, was called 
the Lion Hearted on account of his prowess 
and bold enterprises. He was the leader of 
the third Crusade which had for its object 
the recovery of the Holy Land from the 
Mohammedans. The English monarch went 
on from victory to victory. The most re- 
markable of his battles was that near to 
Ascalon, where he engaged and defeated 
Saladin, king of Jerusalem, the most re- 
nowned of the Saracen monarchs, and left 
40,000 of the enemy dead on the field. 
Ascalon surrendered, as did several other 
cities, to the victorious Richard, who now 
prepared for the siege of Jerusalem, the 
capture of which was the object of this 
great enterprise; but at the most import- 
ant crisis, which if fortunate — as everything 
seemed to promise — would have terminated 
the expedition in the most glorious manner, 
the king of England, on a review of his 
army, found them so wasted with famine, 
with fatigue, and even with victory, that 
with the utmost mortification of heart he 
was obliged to entirely abandon the enter- 
prise. The war was finished by a truce 
with Saladin. 



iM wi «f': « 




KING RICHARD LANDING AT JAFFA TO RECOVER THE HOLY LAND. 



300 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



301 



That is good advice which some one gives: 
no man ought ever to settle an important 
question when he is discouraged or de- 
pressed; he ought to recognize such a 
condition as something abnormal and un- 
healthful — a condition which makes wise 
judgment and right action impossible. If 
we learn to treat our times of depression 
and discouragement as symptoms of disease, 
and avoid deciding or acting when they are 
upon us — to look at them as something 
apart from our best and truest selves — we 
shall avoid the mistakes into which they wiU 
lead us, and we shall do much to overcome 
them. 

But it must be confessed that many times 
in life there are many things which make the 
torch of hope burn dimly and seem some- 
times to almost put it out. There are flares 
and draughts and doubtful places which 
every one must pass through. 

Ashes of Disappointment, 
There are burdens heavy to be borne ; 
and longings steadily unmet ; and ghosts 
of fears which threaten to change from 
ghosts to verities; and perplexities to dis- 
tract; and all the time the tense, hard 
struggle with the evil in one's self; and 
prayers which seem unanswered; and the 
reaction from heavy strains of work; and 
sometimes the bitter humdrum of the daily 
duty; and the frequent consciousness of 
failure; and heaps of ashes of disappoint- 
ment; and the wakeful hours in the middle 
of the night, when troubles take on exag- 
gerated shape and gesture; and often unin- 
tentional deeds and words of friends, which 
to you seem to have the sharpest edges, cut 
to the quick; and the problems of expe- 
rience; and the mystery of life around; 
and the denser mystery of death ahead, 
into which every one of us must pass, a 



lonely pilgrim ; — there are these things, 
and other things like them almost innu- 
merable. 

And amidst them all, our hopes, like the 
lamp of the foolish virgins in the parable, 
seem often smouldering out, if, indeed, they 
have not gone out entirely. But still we 
must have hope. The hopeless soul is the 
defeated soul. Some unfailing oil for the 
lamp of hope — that is the direst necessity 
sometimes, at least, for every one of us. 

Characteristics of Hope. 

What is hope ? The beauteous sun, 
Which colors all it shines upon ! 
The beacon of life's dreary sea ; 
The star of immortality ! 
Fountain of feeling, young and warm, 
A day-beam bursting through the storm ! 
A tone of melody, whose birth 
Is, oh ! too sweet, too pure, for earth ! 
A blossom of that radiant tree 
Whose fruit the angels only see ! 
A beauty, and a charm, whose power 
Is seen, enjoyed, confessed, each hour ! 
A portion of that world to come 

When earth and ocean meet — the last o'erwhelming 
doom. 

Charles Swain. 

Influence of Hope. 

Auspicious hope ! in thy sweet garden grow 
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe ; 
Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour ; 
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower ; 
There as the wild bee murmurs on the wing 
What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ; 
What viewless forms the iGolian organs play, 
And sweep the furrowed lines of anxious thought 

away. 

Thomas Campbell. 

Says Charles Dickens : " There is nothing 
— no, nothing — beautiful and good that dies 
and is forgotten. An infant, a prattling child, 
dying in its cradle, will live again in the 
better thoughts of those who loved it, and 
play its part, though its body be burned to 
ashes or drowned in the deepest sea. There 



302 



HOPE. 



is not an angel added to the hosts of 
heaven but does its blessed work on earth 
in those who loved it here. Dead ! Oh, if 
good deeds of human creatures could be 
traced to their source, how beautiful would 
even death appear ! for how much charity, 
I mercy, and purified affection would be seen 
to have their growth in dusty graves. 

Longfellow says : " The setting of a great 
hope is like the setting of the sun. The 
brightness of our life is gone, shadows of the 
evening fall around us, and the world seems 
but a dim reflection itself — a broader shadow. 
We look forward into the coming lonely 
night ; the soul withdraws itself. Then stars 
arise, and the night is holy." 

Happy is the man who has that in his 
soul which acts upon the dejected as April 
air upon violet roots. Gifts from the hand 
are silver and gold, but the heart gives that 
which neither silver nor gold can buy. To 
be full of goodness, full of cheerfulness, full 
of sympathy, full of helpful hope, causes a 
man to carry blessings of which he himself 
is as unconscious as a lamp is of its own 
shining. Such an one moves on human life 
as stars move on dark seas to bewildered 
mariners ; as the sun wheels, bringing all the 
seasons with him from the south. 

Immortal Hope. 
Hope humbly, then, with trembling pinions soar, 
Wait the great teacher, death ; and God adore. 
What's future bliss. He gives not thee to know, 
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast ; 
Man never is, but always to be blest : 
The soul uneasy and confined from hotae. 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 

Alexander Popb. 

Faith and Hope. 

Fountain of song, its prayer begins and ends, 
Hope is the wing by which the soul ascends ; 
Some may allege I wander from the path. 
And give to hope the proper rights of faith ; 



Like love and friendship, these, a comely pair, 
What's done by one, the other has a share : 
When heat is felt, we judge that fire is near, 

Hope's twilight comes — faith's day will soon appear. 

Thus when the Christian's contest doth begin, 

Hope fights with doubts, till faith's reserves come in : 

Hope comes desiring and expects relief ; 

Faith follows, and peace springs from firm belief. 

Hope balances occurrences of time ; 

Faith will not stop till it has reached the prime. 

Just like co-partners in joint stock of trade, 

What one contracts is by the other paid. 

Make use of hope thy laboring soul to cheer. 
Faith shall be giv'n if thou wilt persevere. 
We see all things alike with either eye. 
So faith and hope the self-same object spy. 
But what is hope? or where or how begun ? 
It comes from God, as light comes from the sun. 
Thomas Hogo. 

The old philosopher Diogenes says hope 
is the last thing that dies in man. The 
poet Hesiod tells us that the miseries of 
all mankind were included in a great box, 
and that Pandora took off the lid of it, by 
which means all of them came abroad, and 
hope only remained. Hope is the truest 
friend and remains with us until the last, 
Hope frequents the poor man's hut as 
well as the palace of the rich. 

Gifts Made by Alexander. 
Before Alexander set out on his expedition 
against the Persians he settled the affairs of 
Macedon, over which he appointed Antipater 
as viceroy, with 12,000 foot, and nearly the 
same number of horse. He also inquired 
into the domestic affairs of his friends, giving 
to one an estate in land, to another a village, 
to a third the revenues of a town, to a fourth 
the toll of a harbor. And as all his revenues 
were already employed and exhausted by his 
donations, Perdiccas said to him, " My lord, I 
what is it you reserve for yourself?" Alex- 
ander replying, " Hope," " The same hope," 
says Perdiccas, "ought therefore to satisfy 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



303-. 



I 



us," and very generously refused to accept 
of what the king had assigned to him. 

Chiefest of blessings is hope, the most 
common of possessions ; for, as Thales, the 
philosopher said, " Even those who have 
nothing else have hope." Hope is the great 
helper of the poor. It has even been styled 
" the poor man's bread." It is also the sus- 
tainer and inspirer of great deeds. 

The pleasures of memory, however great, 
are stale compared with those of hope ; for 
hope is the parent of all effort and endeavor) 
and every gift of noble origin is breathed 
upon by hope's perpetual breath. It may 
be said to be the moral engine that moves 
the world and keeps it in action ; and at the 
end of all there stands before us what Rob- 
ertson styled " the great hope." " If it were 
not for hope," said Byron, "where would 
the future be? — in hell! It is useless to say 
where the present is, for most of us know ; 
and as for the past, what predominates in 
memory? — Hope baffled. Therefore, in all 
human affairs, it is hope, hope, hope!" 

Hope's Promise. 

Sometimes when I am sore cast down. 
And labor seems in vain, in vain, 
Hope sings to me this silver strain, 

"He who endures shal. wear a crown ! " 

Sometimes, when I would flee the frown 
Of adverse fate that frights my soul, 
Hope whispers, pointing to the goal, 

" He who endures shall wear a crown ! " 

Sometimes when I am weary grown. 
And baffled by the foes I meet, 
Hope spurs me with this promise sweet, 

' ' He who endures shall wear a crown ! ' ' 

Susie M. Best. 

Every man is sufficiently discontented with 
some circumstances of his present state, to 
suffer his imagination to range more or less 
in quest of future happiness, and to fix upon 
some point of time, in which, by the removal 



of the inconvenience which now perplexes 
him, or acquisition of the advantages which 
he at present wants, he shall find the condi- 
tion of his life very much improved. 

When this time, which is too often ex- 
pected with great impatience, at last arrives,, 
it generally comes without the blessing for 
which it was desired; but we solace our- 
selves with some new prospect, and press, 
forward again with equal eagerness. 

It is lucky for a man, in whom this temper 
prevails, when he turns his hopes upon things 
wholly out of his own power; since he for- 
bears then to precipitate his affairs, for the 
sake of the great event that is to complete 
his felicity, and waits for the blissful hour 
with less neglect of the measures necessary- 
to be taken in the meantime. 

A Light in all Dark Places. 

Hope is necessary in every condition. The- 
miseries of poverty, of sickness, or captivity, 
would, without this comfort, be insupporta- 
ble; nor does it appear that the happiest lot 
of terrestrial existence can set us above the 
want of this general blessing; or that life, 
when the gifts of nature and of fortune are 
accumulated upon it, would not still be 
wretched, were it not elevated and delighted 
by the expectation of some new possession, 
of some enjoyment yet behind, by which the 
wish shall be at last satisfied, and the heart 
filled up to its utmost extent. 

Hope is, indeed, very fallacious, and 
promises what it seldom gives; but its. 
promises are more valuable than the gifts 
of fortune, and it seldom frustrates us with- 
out assuring us of recompensing the delay 
by a greater bounty. 

Disappointment seldom cures us of ex- 
pectation, or has any other effect than that 
of producing a moral sentence or peevish 
exclamation. 




THE SURE AND STEADFAST ANCHOR. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



505 



We ''rise on stepping stones of our dead 
selves to higher things." No one soul is so 
obscure that God does not take thought for 
its schooling. The sun is the central light 
of the universe, but it has a mission to the 
ripening corn and the purpling clusters of 
the vine. The sunshine that comes filtering 
through the morning mists, with healing in 
its wings, and charms all the birds to sing- 
ing, should have also a message from God 
to sad hearts. No soul is so grief-laden 
that it may not be lifted to sources of 
heavenly comfort by recognizing the divine 
love in the perpetual recurrence of earthly 
blessings : 

" The night is mother of the day. 

The -winter of the spring ; 
And even upon old decay 

The greenest mosses cling. 
Behind the cloud the star-light lurks ; 

Through showers the sunbeams fall ; 
For God, who loveth all his works. 

Hath left his hope with all." 

The man who carries a lantern in a dark 
night can have friends all around him, walk- 
ing safely by the help of its rays, and be not 
defrauded. So he who has the God-given 
light of hope in his breast can help on many 
others in this world's darkness, not to his 
own loss, but to their precious gain. 

Steadfast Hope. 

Hope sets the stamp of vanity on all 

That men have deemed substantial since the fall. 

Yet has the wondrous virtue to educe 

From emptiness itself a real use ; 

And while she takes, as at a father's hand, 

What health and sober appetite demand, 

From fading good derives, with chemic art, 

The lasting happiness, a thankful heart. 

Hope, with uplifted foot, set free from earth, 
Pants for the place of her ethereal birth, 
On steady wings sails through the immense abyss, 
Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss, 
And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here. 
With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. 



Hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast 
The Christian vessel, and defies the blast. 
Hope ! nothing else can nourish and secure 
His new-born virtues, and preserve him pure. 
Hope ! let the wretch, once conscious of the joy. 
Whom now despairing agonies destroy, 
Speak — for he can, and none so well as he — 
What treasures centre, what delights in thee. 
Had he the gems, the spices, and the land 
That boasts the treasure, all at his command ; 
The fragrant grove, the inestimable mine. 
Were light, when viewed against one smile of thine. 
William Cowper. 

Our actual enjoyments are so few and 
transient that man would be a very misera- 
ble being were he not endowed with this 
passion, which gives him a taste of those 
good things that may possibly come into 
his possession. "We should hope for every- 
thing that is good," says the old poet Linus, 
"because there is nothing which may not be 
hoped for, and nothing but what the gods 
are able to give us." Hope quickens all the 
still parts of life, and keeps the mind awake 
in her most remiss and indolent hours. It 
gives habitual serenity and good humor. It 
is a kind of vital heat in the soul, that cheers 
and gladdens her, when she does not attend 
to it. It makes pain easy, and labor pleasant. 

Hope of a Better Life. 

My next observation is this, that a relig- 
ious life is that which most abounds in a 
well-grounded hope, and such an one as is 
fixed on objects that are capable of making 
us entirely happy. This hope in a religious 
man is much more sure and certain than 
the hope of any temporal blessing, as it is 
strengthened not only by reason, but by 
faith. It has at the same time its eye per- 
petually fixed on that state, which implies 
in the very notion of it the most full and 
the most complete happiness. 

Religious hope has likewise this advantage 
above any other kind of hope, that it is able 



k 



306 



HOPE. 



to revive the dying man, and to fill his mind 
not only with secret comfort and refreshment, 
but sometimes with rapture and transport. 
He triumphs in his agonies, whilst the soul 
springs forward with delight to the great 
object which she has always had in view, 
and leaves the body with an expectation 
of being reunited to her in a glorious and 
joyful resurrection. 

It is a precept several times inculcated by 
Horace, that we should not entertain a hope 
of anything in life which lies at a great dis- 
tance from us. The shortness and uncer- 
tainty of our time here makes such a kind 
of hope unreasonable and absurd. The 
grave lies unseen between us and the object 
which we reach after. Where one man lives 
to enjoy the good he has in view, ten thou- 
sand are cut off in the pursuit of it. 

Fruition of Hope. 

O «end me down a draught of love, 
Or take me hence to drink above ! 
Here, Marah's water fills my cup ; 
But there, all griefs are swallowed up. 

Love here is scarce a faint desire ; 
But there, the spark's a flaming fire ; 
Joys here are drops, that passing flee ; 
But there, an overflowing sea. 

My faith, that sees so darkly here. 
Will there resign to vision clear ; 
My hope, that's here a weary groan, 
Will to fruition yield the throne. 

Rai,ph BrSKIne. 

One of the most fatal things in the life of 
faith is discouragement. One of the most 
helpful is cheerfulness. A very wise man 
once said that in overcoming temptations 
cheerfulness was the first thing, cheerfulness 
the second, and cheerfulness the third. We 
must expect to conquer. That is why the 
Lord said so often to Joshua, " Be strong 
and of a good courage;" "Be not afraid. 



neither be thou dismayed ; '! " Only be thou 
strong and very courageous." 

And it is also the reason he says to us, 
" Let not your heart be troubled, neither let 
it be afraid." The power of temptation is in 
the fainting of our own hearts. Satan knows 
this well, and he always begins his assaults 
by discouraging us, if he can in any way 
accomplish it. 

A Striking Allegory. 

I remember once hearing an allegory that 
illustrated this to me wonderfully. Satan 
called together a council of his servants to 
consult how they might make a good man 
sin. One evil spirit started up and said, " I 
will make him sin." " How will you do it ? " 
asked Satan. " I will set before him the 
pleasures of sin," was the reply ; " I will tell 
him of its delights and the rich rewards it 
brings." 

" Ah ! " said Satan, " that will not do ; 
he has tried it, and knows better than that." 
Then another spirit started up and said, " I 
will make him sin." "What will you do? " 
asked Satan. " I will tell him of the pains 
and sorrows of virtue. I will show him that 
virtue has no delights and brings no rewards. 
"Ah, no!" exclaimed Satan, "that will not 
do at all ; for he has tried it, and knows that 
' wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness and 
all her paths are peace.' " 

"Well," said another imp, starting up, " I 
will undertake to make him sin." "And 
what will you do ? " asked Satan, again. 
" I will discourage his soul," was the short 
reply. "Ah, that will do!" cried Satan, 
" that will do ! We shall conquer him now." 
And they did. 

An old writer says, "All discouragement 
is from the devil," and I wish every Christian 
would take this as a pocket-piece, and never 
forget it. We must fly from discouragement 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



307 



as we would from sin, and keep our eyes 
bright with undying hope. 

If we give way to despondency, if we 
yield our energy and strength before the 
first whirlwind of misfortune, we shall soon 
discover that we have made a sad calcula- 
tion. Life is made up of sunshine and 
shadow. None can expect exemption from 
trial and vicissitude, and when these • mis- 
fortunes come, they should be encountered 
with a brave spirit, and a determination to 
deserve better for the future. 

We can conceive of no more noble-hearted 
being, than the individual who goes about 
encouraging and consoling, who has a good 
word on all occasions, and who endeavors 
not only to render his own pathway as bright 
and as cheerful as possible, but to inspire 
confidence, hope, and courage in the minds 
and hearts of others. 

However dark the day may be, he sees 
sunshine in the morrow. Whatever misfor- 
tunes may surround the present, he encour- 
ages the sufferer to wrestle in a manly spirit, 
satisfied that a better and brighter season is 



at hand. He sympathizes with the afflicted, 
and at the same time whispers words of hope. 
The calamity is serious, he admits, "but it 
might have been worse." 

And then, he argues, " adversity has its 
uses." He shows how poor a dependence 
man may have upon himself, and how neces- 
sary is the reliance upon Providence. He 
ever encourages the doctrine of "time, faith, 
and energy." He cites similar cases, and 
shows that the gloom is likely to prove but 
temporary, and that change and prosperity 
will soon come. How much better this than 
the spirit of the croaker! 

A living hope, living in death itself: the 
world dares say no more for its device than 
Ditm spiro spero — "While I breathe, I 
hope;" but the children of God can add 
by virtue of this living hope, Dum spiro 
spero — "While I expire, I hope." 

Like a valiant captain in a losing battle, 
hope is ever encouraging man, and never 
leaves him till they both expire together. 
It is almost as the air by which the mind 
doth live. 



ONE PRECIOUS HOPE. 



And our beloved have departed, 
While we tarry, broken-hearted, 

In the dreary, empty house ; 
They have ended life's brief story, 
They have reached their home of glory. 

Over death victorious. 

Hush that sobbing, weep more lightly, 
On we travel, daily, nightly, 

To the rest that they have found. 
Are we not upon the river. 
Sailing fast, to meet forever 

On more holy, happy grounds 



Every hour that passes o'er us 
Speaks of comfort yet before us — 

Of our journey's rapid rate ; 
And like passing vesper bells, 
The clock of time its chiming tells. 

At eternity's broad gate. 

Ah ! the way is shining clearer, 
As we journey ever nearer 

To the everlasting home. 
Friends who there await the landing, 
Comrades round the throne now standing, 

We salute you, and we come. 




A VISIT OF SYMPATHY. 



308 



CHAPTER XIX. 
SYMPATHY. 




J OLD people are of little use to 
others. The world is not in 
want of icebergs. We were 
not born to freeze up our- 
selves or to freeze those 
around us. When a ship in 
the Atlantic comes near an iceberg the 
chill in the air tells of it. You can feel 
a cold shiver. And there are people who 
are just as cold; you get chilled every time 
you come near them. 

The best hearts are not made of stone. 
There is something warm about them. They 
melt and run. Love is the world's summer 
and without it nothing would grow. He 
is a weak, narrow, selfish, cold-blooded man 
who can see a tear and care nothing for it. 
You should be sensitive to the wants and 
sorrows around you. Feeling is your 
grandest accomplishment. It is the crown 
and glory of character. True religion is to 
pity the widow and the fatherless, and with- 
out this, religion is a sham. If you can't 
give away a loaf of bread, well-baked and 
not stale, your prayers are dough. Good 
giving and good praying are in partnership. 
Sympathy is one of the great secrets of a 
happy and successful life. It overcomes evil 
and strengthens good. It disarms resistance, 
melts the hardest heart, and develops the 
tetter part of human nature. It is one of 
the great truths on which Christianity is 
based. "Love one another" contains a 
gospel sufficient to renovate the world. 

It is related of the Apostle John that when 
very old — so old that he could not walk 



and could scarcely speak — he was carried 
in the arms of his friends into an assembly 
of Christian people. He lifted himself up 
and said, "Little children, love one another." 
And again he said, "Love one another." 
When asked, "Have you nothing else to 
tell us ? " he replied, " I say this again and 
again, because, if you do this, nothing more 
is needed." 

We Are All One. 

Man is dear to man : the poorest poor 

Long for some moments in a weary life, 

When they can know and feel that they have been 

Themselves the fathers and the dealers-out 

Of some small blessings : have been kind to such 

As needed kindness, for the single cause, 

That we have all of us one human heart. 

Wii:<i<iAM Wordsworth. 

Sympathy is founded on love. It is but 
another word for disinterestedness and affec- 
tion. We assume another's state of mind; 
we go out of ourselves and inhabit another's 
personality. We sympathize with him; we 
help him; we relieve him. There can be 
no love without sympathy ; there can be no 
friendship without sympathy. Like mercy, 
sympathy and benevolence are twice blessed, 
blessing both giver and receiver. While 
they bring forth an abundant fruit of happi- 
ness in the heart of the giver, they grow up 
into kindness and benevolence in the heart 
of the receiver. 

"We often do more good," says Canon 
Farrar, "by our sympathy than by our 
labors, and render to the world a more 
lasting service by absence of jealousy and 

309 



310 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



recognition of merit than we could ever 
render by the straining efforts of personal 
ambition. A man may lose position, influ- 
ence, wealth, and even health, and yet live 
on in comfort, if with resignation; but there 
is one thing without which life becomes a 
burden — that is human sympathy." 

It is true that kind actions are not always 
received with gratitude, but this ought never 
to turn aside the sympathetic helper. This 
is one of the difficulties to be overcome in our 
conflict with life. Even the most degraded 
is worthy of the mutual help which all men 
owe to each other. It should be remembered, 
as Bentham no less truly than profoundly 
remarked, that the happiness of the cruel 
man is as much an integral part of the whole 
human happiness as is that of the best and 
noblest of men. Then, again, a man cannot 
do good or evil to others without doing good 
or evil to himself 

Probably there is no influence so powerful 
as sympathy in awakening the affections of 
the human heart. There are few, even of 
the most rugged natures, whom it does not 
influence. It constrains much more than 
force can do. A kind word, or a kind look, 
will act upon those upon whom coercion has 
been tried in vain. While sympathy invites 
to love and obedience, harshness provokes 
aversion and resistance. The poet is right 
who says that " power itself hath not one 
half the might of gentleness." 

We've All Our Angel Side. 

The huge, rough stones from out the mine, 

Unsightly and unfair. 
Have veins of purest metal hid 

Beneath' the surface there. 
Few rocks so bare but to their hights 

Some tiny moss-plant clings ; 
And on the peaks so desolate, 

The sea-bird sits and sings. 
Believe me, too, that rugged souls, 

Beneath their rudeness, hide 



Much that is beautiful and good — 
We've all our angel side. 

In all there is an inner depth, 

A far-off, secret way. 
Where, through the windows of the soul, 

God sends His smiling ray. 
In every human heart there is 

A faithful, sounding chord 
That may be struck, unknown to us, 

By some sweet, loving word. 
The wayward will in man may try 

Its softer thoughts to hide — 
Some unexpected tone reveals 

It has an angel side. 

Despised, and lone, and trodden down, 

Dark with the shades of sin. 
Deciphering not those halo-lights 

Which God has lit within ; 
Groping about in endless night. 

Poor, poisoned souls they are, 
Who guess not what life's meaning is 

Nor dream of heaven afar. 
O that some gentle hand of love 

Their stumbling steps would guide, 
And show them that, amidst it all, 

Life has its angel side ! 

Brutal, and mean, and dark enough, 

God knows some natures are ; 
But He, compassionate, comes near, 

And shall we stand afar ? 
Our cruse of oil will not grow less 

If shared with hearty hand ; 
For words of peace and looks of love 

Few natures can withstand. 
I/)ve is the mighty conqueror. 

Love is the beauteous guide. 
Love, with her beaming eyes, can see 

We've all our angel side. 

Sympathy, when allowed to take a wider 
range, assumes the larger form of public 
philanthropy. It influences man in the en- 
deavor to elevate his fellow-creatures from a 
state of poverty and distress, to improve the 
condition of the masses of the people, to 
diffuse the results of civilization far and wide 
among mankind, and to unite in the bonds 
of peace and brotherhood the parted families 
of the human race. And it is every man's 



SYMPATHY. 



311 



duty, whose lot has been favored in com- 
parison with others, who enjoys advantages 
of wealth, or knowledge, or social influence, 
of which others are deprived, to devote at 
least a certain portion of his time and money 
to the promotion of the general well-being. 
It is not great money power, or great 
intellectual power, that is necessary. The 
power of money is overestimated. Paul 
and his disciples spread Christianity over 
half the Roman world, with little more 
money than is gained from a fashionable 
bazaar. The great social doctrines of Chris- 
tianity are based on the idea of brotherhood. 
" Do unto others as ye would they should 
do unto you." 

Be a Helper. 

Each is to assist the other ; the strong the 
weak, the rich the poor, the learned the igno- 
rant ; and, to reverse the order, those who 
have least are no less to assist those who 
• have most. All depends on higher degrees 
of power, for disciples do not make their 
teachers, nor the ignorant and helpless those 
who are to instruct and assist them. 

Man can make of life what he will. He 
can give as much value to it, for himself and 
others, as he has power given him. When 
circumstances are not against him, he has 
entire control over his moral and spiritual 
nature. He can do much for himself, and 
all that God gives must pass through man 
and his own exertions, as if it were his own 
peculiar work. 

Though we may look to our understand- 
ing for amusement, it is to the affections 
only that we must trust for happiness. This 
implies a spirit of self-sacrifice, and our vir- 
tues, like our children, are endeared to us 
for what we suffer for them. "The secret of 
my mother's influence," says a well-known 
lady, " was accurately expressed by one who 



wrote her, ' I have never known any one so 
tenderly and truly and universally beloved 
as you are, and I believe it arises from your 
capacity of loving.' " 

The men most to be pitied are those who 
have no command over themselves, who 
have no feeling of duty to others, who 
wander through life seeking their own pleas- 
ure, or who, even while performing good 
deeds, do so from mean motives, from regard 
to mental satisfaction, or from fear of the 
reproaches of conscience. Some of those 
who are vain of their fine feelings love them- 
selves dearly, but have little regard for the 
individuals about them. They are very polite 
to extraneous society ; but follow them home 
and see how they conduct themselves toward 
their family. 'An angel abroad and a devil 
at home," is an old saying. 

Misplaced Sympathy. 

False sympathy is very common. Sharpe 
says that one of the most serious objections 
to pathetic works of fiction is, that they tend 
to create a habit of feeling pity or indigna- 
tion, without actually relieving distress or 
resisting oppression. Thus Sterne could 
sympathize with a dead donkey, and leave 
his wife to starve. 

The man who throws himself into the 
existence of another, and exerts his utmost 
efforts to help him in all ways — socially, 
morally, religiously — exerts a divine influ- 
ence. He is enveloped in the strongest safe- 
guard. He bids defiance to selfishness. He 
comes out of his trial humble yet noble. 
The alleviation of pain and misery was a dis- 
covery of Christianity, a discovery like that 
of a new scientific principle. The best and 
the noblest men are the most sympathetic. 
Wilberforce was distinguished by his power 
of sympathy. A friend was asked, "What 
is the secret of Wilberforce's success?" 



312 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



" In his power of sympathy," was the ready 
answer. He was large-hearted, generous, 
and Hberal. He went straight to the front, 
and threw himself heart and soul into every 
project which had good for its object. He 
took the lead in - every experiment which 
seemed to him worth trying. And success 
was the result. 

Sympathy is the capacity of feeling for the 
sufferings, the difficulties, and the discour- 
agements of others. It was said of Norman 
Macleod that sympathy was the first and the 
last thing in his character. He found in 
humanity so much to interest him. The 
most commonplace man or woman yielded 
up some contribution of humanity. " When 
he came to see me," said a blacksmith, " he 
spoke as if he had been a smith himself, but 
he never went away without leaving Christ in 
my heart." 

There is Need of Men. 

When about to enter on his work in Glas- 
gow, Norman Macleod said : " We want 
living men ! not their books or their money 
only, but themselves. The poor and needy, 
the naked and outcast, the prodigal and 
broken-hearted, can see and feel, as they 
never did anything else in this world, the love 
which calmly shines in that eye, telling of 
inward light and peace possessed, and of a 
place of rest found and enjoyed by the weary 
heart. They can understand and appreciate 
the utter unselfishness — to them a thing 
hitherto hardly dreamed of — which prompted 
a visit from a home of comfort and refine- 
ment to an unknown abode of squalor or 
disease, and which expresses itself in those 
kind words and tender greetings that accom- 
pany their ministrations." 

There is a tremenduous lack of sympathy. 
This is the main evil of our time. There is 
a widening chasm which divides the various 



classes of society. The rich shrink back 
from the poor, the poor shrink back from 
the rich. The one class withholds its sym- 
pathy and guidance, the other withholds its 
respect. 

Instead of the old principle that the world 
must be ruled by kind and earnest guardian- 
ship, in which the irregularities of fortune are 
in part made up by the spontaneous charity 
and affection of those v/ho were better born, 
the rule now is, that self-interest, without 
regard to others, is the polar star of our 
earthly sphere, and that everything that 
stands in the way is to be trodden down 
beneath our unfeeling hoofs. 

What Might be Done. 

What might be done if men were wise — 
What glorious deeds, my suffering brother, 

Would they unite 

In love and right, 
And cease their scorn of one another. 

The meanest wretch that ever trod, 
The deepest sunk in guilt and sorrow, 
Might stand erect 
In self-respect, 
And share the teeming world to-morrow. 

What might be done ? This might be done, 
And more than this, my suffering brother — 
More than the tongue 
E'er said or sung, 
If men were wise and loved each other. 

Chari^es Mackay. 

Sympathy seems to be dying out between 
employers and employed. In the great 
manufacturing towns the masters and work- 
men live apart from each other. They do 
not know each other. They have no sym- 
pathy with each other. If the men want 
higher wages, there is a strike ; if the mas- 
ters want lower wages, there is a lock-out. 
There is combination on both sides. Then a 
conference is proposed, sometimes with good 
results, sometimes with bad. Agitation goes 




FLOWERS FOR THE SICK. 



313 



314 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



on, and hard things are said. Sometimes 
trains are stopped and railroad property is 
burned, the militia are called out, and there 
is a pause ; but what an injury has been 
done to head and heart on both sides ! 

And what shall we say of domestic ser- 
vice ? The want of sympathy has died out, 
at least in large cities. There is a constant 
change going on — one set of servants suc- 
ceeds another. And yet the lives of families 
cannot be carried on upon the principles of 
mere barter — so much money, so much ser- 
vice. Servants, when they enter our homes, 
should be regarded, in one sense, as mem- 
bers of the family. 

It is now far otherwise ; the servant, though 
her help is essential to our daily comfort, is 
regarded as but a hired person, doing her 
appointed work for so many greenbacks. 
She lives in the kitchen and sleeps in the 
attic. With the region between she has no 
concern, excepting as regards the work to be 
done there. No sympathy exists between the 
employer and the employed, any more than if 
they inhabited different countries, and spoke 
in different languages. 

Governed only by Self-interest. 

The want of sympathy pervades society. 
We do not know each other, or do not care 
for each other, as we ought to do. Selfish- 
ness strikes its roots very deep. In pursuit 
of pleasure or wealth we become hard and 
indifferent. Each person is eager to run his 
or her race, without regard to the feelings of 
others. We do not think of helping onward 
those who have heavier burdens to bear than 
ourselves. It makes men regardless of fraud 
and crime. Not recognizing the brotherhood 
of the race, they selfishly and keenly pursue 
their own interest over the bodies and souls, 
and over the lives and properties of others. 

The idle and selfish man cares little for 



the rest of the world. He does nothing to 
help the forlorn or the destitute. " What 
are they to me?" he says; "let them look 
after themselves. Why should I help them? 
They have done nothing for me ! They are 
suffering ? There always will be suffering in 
the world. What can't be cured must be 
endured. It will be all the same a hundred 
years hence ! " 

"Don't care" can scarcely be roused by a 
voice from the dead. He is so much en- 
grossed by his own pleasures, his own 
business, or his own idleness, that he will 
give no heed to the pressing claims of others. 
The discussions about poverty, ignorance, or 
suffering, annoy him. " Let them work," 
he says; "why should I keep them? Let 
them help themselves." The sloth is an 
energetic animal compared with "Don't 
care." 

Cannot Escape the Consequences. 

But " Don't care" is not let off so easily 
as he imagines. The man who does not 
care for others, who does not sympathize 
with and help others, is very often pursued 
with a just retribution. He doesn't care for 
the foul pestilential air breathed by the 
inhabitants of houses a few streets off; but 
the fever which has been bred there floats 
into his house, and snatches away those who 
are dearest to him. He doesn't care for the 
criminahty, ignorance, and poverty massed 
there ; but the burglar and the thief find him 
out in his seclusion. He doesen't care for 
pauperism; but he has to pay for poor- 
houses. He doesn't care for politics ; but 
tricksters and plunderers get into power; 
and, after all, he finds that "Don't care " is 
not such a cheap policy after all. 

"Don't care " was the man who was to 
blame for the well-known catastrophe: "For 
want of a nail the shoe was lost, for want of ^ 



SYMPATHY. 



315 



a shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a 
horse the man was lost." Galho was a 
"Don't care," of whom we are told that " he 
cared for none of these things." "Don't 
cares " like Gallio generally come to a bad 
end. 

The political economists say that the re- 
lationship of employers and employed is 
simply a money bargain — so much service, 
so much wage. In the calculations of the 
economists this is doubtless the contract 
which they are required to recognize. But 
the moralist, the philosopher, the statesman, 
the man, should acknowledge, in the posi- 
tions of employers and employed, a social tie, 
imposing upon the parties certain duties and 
affections growing out of their common sym- 
pathies as human beings, and the positions 
they respectively fill. There should be kind- 
ness on both sides, with the respect due to 
immortal beings. 

"A Man's a Man for a' That." 

Without this sort of respect, which can 
only exist where the sense of the real dignity 
of man as a living soul has penetrated, not 
merely in the convictions but in the feelings, 
any amelioration of the condition of society 
is hopeless. 

"Yes !" said Sydney Smith, " he is of the 
utilitarian school ! The man is so hard that 
you might drive a broad-wheeled wagon over 
him, and it would produce no impression. 
If you were to bore holes in him with a 
gimlet, I am convinced sawdust would come 
out of him. That school treats mankind as 
if they were machines; the feelings or the 
heart never enter into their consideration." 

Where has our faithfulness, loyalty and 
disinterestedness gone? Fidelity seems to 
be a lost art. It is now a matter of money. 
Mutual respect has departed. " He that 
respects not is not respected," says Herbert. 



We have to go back to the old times for our 
guiding maxims. The workman respects 
not the master, and the master respects not 
the servant. For many years the workman 
in this country received higher wages than 
prevailed over the rest of Europe. That 
time has come to a close. Railways and 
steamboats tend to make the wages of all 
countries nearly equal. The time has come 
when all classes will have to begin a new 
course of life. 

A Matter of the Heart. 

It is not so much literary culture that is 
wanted as habits of reflection, thoughtfulness, 
and right conduct. Wealth cannot purchase 
pleasures of the highest sort. It is the 
heart, taste, and judgment which determine 
the happiness of man, and restore him to th& 
highest form of being. Burns says : 

It's not in titles nor in rank : 

It's not in wealth like London Bank, 

To purchase peace and rest ; 
It's not in making much still more ; 
It's not in books ; it's not in lore, 

To make us truly blest : 
If happiness have not her seat 

And centre in the breast, 
We may be wise, or rich, or great,. 

But never can be blest. 

It is not for ourselves alone that we work 
and strive. It is for others as well as for 
ourselves. There are moral laws, family- 
ties, domestic affections, home government 
and guidance, which stand on a higher level 
and are based on nobler considerations than 
selfish pleasures or money payment. We 
must beware how we allow our views to 
centre in ourselves. 

" No one," said Epictetus, "who is a lover 
of riches, or a lover of pleasure, or a lover of 
glory, can at the same time be a lover of 
men," "To be a lover of men," said St. 
Anthony, "is, in fact, to live." Thus love is 



k 



316 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



the universal principle of good. It is glori- 
fied in human intelligence. It is the only 
remedy for the woes of the human race. It 
is sweet in action — in learning, in philosophy, 
in manners, in legislation, in government. 

Thoughtfulness, kindness, and considera- 
tion for others will always repay themselves. 
They will produce a grateful return on the 
part of the objects, and services will be per- 
formed with a willingness and alacrity which 
mere money could never secure. Sympathy 
is the true warmth and light of the home — 
which binds together mistresses and servants, 
as well as husband and wife, father, mother, 
and children ; and the home cannot be truly 
happy where it is not present — knitting 
together the whole household in one bond of 
domestic affection and concord. 

W^ho is the Successful Man? 

The late Arthur Helps, in one of his wise 
essays, says, "You observe a man becoming 
day by day richer, or advancing in station, 
or increasing in professional reputation, and 
you set him down as a successful man in life. 
But if his home is an ill-regulated one, where 
no links of affection extend throughout the 
family, whose former domestics (and he has 
had more of them than he can well remem- 
ber) look back upon their sojourn with him 
as one unblessed by kind words or deeds, I 
contend that that man has not been suc- 
cessful. 

" Whatever good fortune he may have in 
the world, it is to be remembered that he 
has always left one important fortress un- 
taken behind him. That man or woman's 
life does not surely read well when benevo- 
lence has found no central home. It may 
have sent forth rays in various directions, 
but there should have been a warm focus of 
love — that home nest which is formed round 
a good man's heart." 



No man was more sympathetic than Charles 
Lamb. There are few who have not heard 
of the one awful event in his life. When 
only twenty-one his sister Mary, in a fit of 
frenzy, stabbed her mother to the heart 
with a carving-knife. Her brother, from 
that moment, resolved to sacrifice his life to 
his "poor, dear, dearest sister," and volun- 
tarily became her companion. He gave up 
all thoughts of love and marriage. Under 
the strong influence of duty, he renounced 
the only attachment he had ever formed. 
With an income of scarcely five hundred 
dollars a year, he trod the journey of life 
alone, fortified by his attachment for his 
sister. Neither pleasure nor toil ever di- 
verted him from his purpose. 

When released from the asylum, she de- 
voted part of her time to the composition of 
the "Tales from Shakespeare," and other 
works. Hazlitt speaks of her as one of the 
most sensible women he ever knew, though 
she had through life recurring fits of insanity, 
and even when well was constantly on the 
brink of madness. 

A Brother's Tender Care. 

When she felt a fit of insanity coming on, 
Charles would take her under his arm to 
the Hoxton Asylum. It was affecting to 
see the young brother and his elder sister 
walking together and weeping together on 
this painful errand. He carried the straight- 
jacket in his hand, and delivered her up to 
the care of the asylum authorities. 

When she had recovered her reason, she 
went home again to her brother, who joy- 
fully received her — treating her with the 
utmost tenderness. " God loves her," he 
says ; " may we two never love each other 
less." Their affection continued for forty 
years, without a cloud, except such as arose 
from the fluctuations of her health. Lamb 



SYMPATHY. 



317 



did his duty nobly and manfully, and he 
reaped a fitting reward. 

Sympathy for others often exhibits itself 
in the desire to save the lives of those Avho 
are in peril. We have already related many 
instances of this kind ; but another remains 
to be mentioned. One day Lady Watson 
was walking along the sea-shore collecting 
shells for her museum. In looking up, she 
saw a solitary man on a ledge of rock sur- 
rounded by water. She knew not who he 
was ; but he was in risk of losing his life, 
and she determined to save him. The tide 
was rising rapidly, and the waves were 
furiously rushing in upon the land. It ap- 
peared almost impossible to rescue the forlorn 
man from his perilous position. 

In the Nick of Time. 

Nevertheless, she appealed to the boatmen, 
and offered a high reward to those who 
would go to sea and save the man. At 
first they hesitated, but at length a boat 
started, and reached the rock just as the 
man's strength was exhausted. They got 
him on board, and bore him safely to land. 
What was the lady's astonishment to find in 
the rescued man her own husband, Sir Wil- 
liam Watson ! 

Even a word spoken in good season is 
remembered. The famous Dr. Sydenham 
remarked that everybody, some time or 
other, would be the better or the worse for 
having but spoken to a good or bad man. 
The curate of Olney, the friend of Cowper, 
was one of those persons to whom few people 
could speak without being the better for it. 
He said of himself, "he could live no longer 
than he could love." 

"A woman's memory saved me from much 
temptation," wrote one who had lived a wild 
life in a wild land. Not one of my own 
people ever knew her ; she was dead before 



I left home. But there were some things 
that might otherwise have been too much for 
me, that I was quite safe from, just because 
I had loved her; I never felt that I had in 
any way lost her love, and I could not go 
with it in my heart to places where I could 
never have taken her. When I felt a little 
lonely because I could not join those who 
had been my comrades, I just braced up my 
heart with the thought, ' for her sake. ' " 

Story by a Noted Preacher. 

Here is a story which shows the utter 
want of sympathy. It was told in a sermon 
by Rev. Robert Collyer, pastor of the Unity 
Church of Chicago, and later of New York. 
Mr. Collyer was born at Keighley, in York- 
shire, but spent most of his early life at 
Ilkley, now a fashionable watering-place- 
He was apprenticed to Jackie Birch, a black- 
smith. He married while a workman at the 
anvil. He became a lay preacher among 
the Methodists. Afterward he came tO' 
America, and became a preacher here. His 
sermons are full of Hfe, poetry, and eloquence,, 
founded upon a large experience of human 
character. 

"I remember," he says, "in one of our 
love feasts in the Methodist Church in Eng- 
land, thirty years ago and more, that a maa 
got up and told us how he had lost his wife 
by the fever, and then, one by one, all his 
children, and that he had felt as calm and 
serene through it as if nothing had happened;, 
not suffering in the least, not feeling a pang 
of pain; fended and shielded, as he believed, 
by the Divine grace, and up to that moment 
when he was talking to us, without a grief in 
his heart. 

"As soon as he had done, the wise and 
manful old preacher who was leading the meet- 
ing got up and said, ' Now, brother, go home, 
and into your closet, and down on your 



31S 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



knees, and never get up again, if you can 
help it, until you are a new man. What you 
have told us is not a sign of grace ; it is a 
sign of the hardest heart I ever encountered 
in a Christian man. Instead of you being a 
saint, you are hardly good enough to be a 
decent sinner. Religion never takes the 
humanity out of a man, it makes him more 
human; and if you were human at all, such 
troubles as you have had ought to have 
broken your heart. I know it would mine, 
and I pretend to be no more of a saint than 
other people ; so I warn you never tell such 
a story at a love feast again.' " 

The Little Street Boy. 

Let us take from Mr. Collyer another 
touching story, showing the power of sym- 
pathy in another and truer direction. "Away 
off, I believe in Edinburgh, two gentlemen 
were standing at the door of a hotel one 
very cold day, when a little boy, with a poor 
thin blue face, his feet bare and red with the 
cold, and with nothing to cover him but a 
bundle of rags, came and said, ' Please, sir, 
buy some matches.' ' No, I don't want any,' 
said the gentleman. 'But they're only a 
penny a box,' the little fellow pleaded. 'Yes ; 
but you see I don't want a box.' 'Then I'll 
gie ye two boxes for a penny,' the boy said 
at last, 'And so, to get rid of him,' the 
gentleman, who tells the story in an English 
paper, says, ' I bought a box, but then I 
found I had no change, so I said, ' I'll buy 
a box to-morrow.' ' Oh, do buy them the 
nicht,' the boy pleaded again ; 'I'll rin and 
get ye the change ; for I'm very hungry.' 

" So I gave him the shilling, and he started 
away. I waited for him, but no boy came. 
Then I thought I had lost my shilling ; but 
still there was that in the boy's face I trusted, 
and I did not hke to think badly of him. 

" ' Well, late in the evening a servant came 



and said a little boy wanted to see me. 
When he was brought in, I found it was a 
smaller brother of the boy who got my 
shilling, but, if possible, still more ragged, 
and poor, and thin. He stood a moment 
diving into his rags, as if he were seeking 
something, and then said, 'Are you the 
gentleman that bought the matches frae 
Sandie ? ' ' Yes ! ' ' Weel, then, here's four- 
pence oot o' yer shillin'. Sandie canna come. 
He's no weel. A cart ran ower him, and 
knocked him doon ; and he lost his bonnet, 
and his matches, and your elevenpence ; and 
both his legs are broken, and he's no weel 
at a', and the doctor says he'll dee. And 
that's a' he can gie ye thenoo,' putting four- 
pence down on the table ; and then the poor 
child broke down into great sobs. ' So I fed 
the little man,' the gentleman goes on to say, 
' and then I went with him to see Sandie. 

"Who'll Care for Reuby?" 
'"I found that the two little things lived 
with a wretched drunken step-mother ; their 
own father and mother were both dead. I 
found poor Sandie lying on a bundle of 
shavings ; he knew me as soon as I came in, 
and said, ' I got the change, sir, and was 
coming back ; and then the horse knocked 
me down, and both my legs are broken. 
And Reuby, little Reuby ! I am sure I am 
deein' ! and who will take care o' ye, Reuby, 
when I am gane ? What will ye do, Reuby ? ' 
" ' Then I took the poor little sufferer's 
hand, and told him I would always take care 
of Reuby. He understood me, and had just 
strength to look at me as if he would thank 
me ; then the light went out of his blue eyes ; 
and in a moment 

" ' He lay within the light of God, 
Ivike a babe upon the breast ; 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest. ' ' ' 



SYMPATHY. 



319 



Sympathy glorifies humanity. Its syno- 
nym is love. It goes forth to meet the wants 
and necessities of the sorrow-stricken and 
oppressed. Wherever there is cruelty, or 
ignorance, or misery, sympathy stretches 
forth its hand to console and alleviate. The 
sight of grief, the sound of a groan, takes 
hold of the sympathetic mind, and will not 
let it go. 

On Another's Sorrow. 

Can I see another's woe, 
And not be in sorrow too ? 
Can I see another's grief, 
And not seek for kind relief? 
Can I see a falling tear. 
And not feel my sorrow's share? 
Can a father see his child 
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? 
Can a mother sit and hear 
An infant groan, an infant fear? 
No, no ! never can it be ! 
Never, never can it be ! 

And can He who smiles on all 
Hear the wren with sorrows small, 
Hear the small bird's grief and care, 
Hear the woes that infants bear — 
And not sit beside the nest, 
Pouring pity in their breast ? 
And not sit the cradle near, 
Weeping tear on infant's tear? 
And not sit, both night and day, 
Wiping all our tears away ? 
Oh no ! never can it be ! 
Never, never can it be ! 

He doth give his joy to all ; 
He becomes an infant small ; 
He becomes a man of woe ; 
He doth feel the sorrow too. 
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, 
And thy Maker is not by. 
Oh, he gives to us his joy. 
That our griefs he may destroy : 
Till our grief is fled and gone, 
He doth sit by us and moan. 

WitLIAM BlakB. 

One of the finest traits of President Lincoln 
was his tenderness of heart, and numerous 
instances are on record which illustrate his 



generous sympathy. A poor woman from 
Philadelphia had been waiting, v/ith a baby 
in her arms, for three days to see the Presi- 
dent. Her husband had deserted, and was 
sentenced to be shot. Late in the afternoon 
of the third day Mr. Lincoln heard the baby 
cry. He rang the bell. "Daniel," said he, 
" is there a woman with a baby in the ante- 
room ? " Daniel said there was, and if he 
would allow him to say it, he thought it was 
a case he ought to see, for it was a matter of 
hfe and death. Said he, " Send her at once." 
The President pardoned her husband. As 
she came out from his presence her eyes 
were lifted and her lips moving in prayer, 
the tears streaming down her cheeks. Said 
Daniel, " I went up to her, and pulling her 
shawl said, ' Madam, it was the baby that 
did it! '" 

" Care for this Poor Boy." 
On another occasion among the persons 
in waiting was a small, pale, delicate-looking 
boy about thirteen years old. The President 
saw him, and said, " Come here, my boy, 
and tell me what you want." With bowed 
head and timid accents, he said : " Mr. Presi- 
dent, I have been a drummer-boy in a 
regiment for two years, and my colonel got 
angry with me and turned me off; I was 
taken sick, and have been a long time in 
hospital. This is the first time I have been 
out, and I came to see if you cannot do 
something for me." 

The President looked at him tenderly, and 
asked him where he lived. " I have no 
home," answered the boy. " Where is your 
father? " " He died in the army," was the 
reply. "Where is your mother?" "My 
mother is dead also. I have no mother, no 
father, no brothers, no sisters," and, bursting 
into tears, " no friends — nobody cares for me." 
Mr. Lincoln's eyes were filled with tears. 



k 



320 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and he said to him, " Can't you sell news- 
papers ? " " No," said the boy ; " I am too 
weak, and the surgeon of the hospital told me 
I must leave, and I have no money and no 
place to go to." The scene was wonderfully 
affecting. The President drew forth a card 
and gave special directions " to care for this 
poor boy." 

Says Dr. Guthrie, "To ' weep with them 
that weep ' belongs alone to man. The 
horse will enjoy his feed of corn while his 
yoke-fellow lies a-dying in the neighboring 
stall, and never turn an eye of pity to the 
sufferer. They have strong passions, but no 
sympathy." 

Sympathy is not content to merely look 
on and then do nothing. Queen Isabella 
was in sympathy with Columbus in his de- 
sires to seek a new world in the west. She 
pledged her jewels in order to raise the 
necessary means to enable him to prosecute 
his purpose. 

Kindred Sympathy. 
A man's nearest kin are oftentimes far other than 

his dearest, 
Yet in the season of affliction those will haste to help 

him. 
For, note thou this, the providence of God hath 

bound up families together. 
To mutual aid and patient trial : yea, those ties are 

strong. 
Friends are ever dearer in thy wealth, but relations 

to be trusted in thy need, 
For these are God's appointed way, and those the 

choice of man ; 
There is lower warmth in kin, but smaller truth in 

friends. 
The latter show more surface, and the first have more 

depth. 
Relations rally to the rescue, even in estrangement 

and neglect, 
Where friends will have fled at thy defeat, even after 

promises and kindness. 
For friends come and go ; the whim that bound, may 

loose them ; 
But none can dissever a relationship, and fate hath 

tied the knot. 

M. F. TuppER. 



The Manly Tear. 

No radiant pearl, which crested fortune wears ; 
No gem, that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears ; 
Not the bright stars, which night's blue arch adorn ; 
Nor rising sun, that gilds the vernal morn ; 
Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows 
Down virtue's manly cheek for others' woes. 

E. Darwin. 

Why is it that so many people keep all 
their pleasant thoughts and kind words 
about a man bottled and sealed until he is 
dead, when they come and break the bottle 
over his coffin, and bathe his shroud in fra- 
grance? Many a man goes through life 
with scarcely one bright, cheerful, encour- 
aging, hopeful word. He toils hard and in 
lowly obscurity. He gives out his life freely 
and unstintedly for others. 

I remember such a man. He was not 
brilliant; he was not great; but he was 
faithful. He had many things to dis- 
courage him. Troubles thickened about 
his life. He was misrepresented and mis- 
understood. Everybody believed that he 
was a good man, but no one ever said a 
kindly word or pleasant thing to him. He 
never heard a compliment, scarcely ever a 
good wish. No one ever took any pains 
to encourage him, to strengthen his feeble 
knees, to lighten his burdens, or to lift up 
his heart by a gentle deed of love, or by 
a cheerful word. He was neglected. Un- 
kind things were often said of him. 

I stood at his coffin, and then there were 
many tongues to speak his praise. There 
was not a breath of aspersion in the air. 
Men spoke of self-denial — of his work 
among the poor, of his quietness, modesty, 
his humility, his pureness of heart, his faith 
and prayer. 

But his ears were closed then, and could 
not hear a word that was spoken. The 
love blossomed out too late. 



CHAPTER XX. 



SELF=CONTROL. 




"E have an old proverb that 
says: "He is a fool who 
cannot be angry, but he 
is a wise man who will 
not." The fools, then, 
are scarce, for you sel- 
dom meet a person who 
cannot get angry upon occasion, and you 
meet many who can get angry without any 
occasion. Or they are so fond of showing 
ill temper that if there is no real occasion 
they look one up without any delay. Weak 
persons they are, of little account, fit only to 
bluster and make a noise, to stir up dust as 
a blast of wind does, and you shut your eyes, 
hold your breath, and if you see another 
blast coming you hurry round the corner. 

Yes, the most disagreeable people are 
those who cannot or will not control them- 
selves. A horse that has no self-control is 
the very one you don't want. " Gentle," the 
owner says, "no shying, no jumping, no 
rearing, no kicking — you can face a loco- 
motive or street roller — this animal is safe " 
— and when you buy it that very gentleness 
is a large part of what you pay for. All 
that is done in breaking a colt is to teach it 
to break itself You could not control it if 
it had no self-control. It knows what the 
bit means, what the " whoa " means ; it has 
learned to obey orders and govern itself. 

There are people who never lose an op- 
portunit)^ of pulling at the hitch-line. They 
chafe and fret. They are happy only when 
trying to get away. They are never calm 

21 



and self-possessed. You never know when 
they will boil over, or rather you do know 
they are at the boiling over point whenever 
they are not asleep. There is only one time 
when they can be trusted, and that is when 
they are not awake. 

You may not be aware how much a lack 
of self-control has to do with the ill-success 
and the failures which so many persons de- 
plore in all social, domestic and business' 
life. Here is one main source of disappoint- 
ment. The fault is not always outside of 
you. You cannot control others until you: 
can control yourself The man who is frus- 
trated or in a passion is fit for nothing except 
to get quiet and cool off. No one will pay 
any serious attention to a man who cannot 
govern himself He unmans himself and 
has no more influence over you than a crazy 
person would have; in fact, he is crazy to 
the extent that his reason and self-possession 
are gone. 

No True Manhood Without It. 

Self-control is only courage under another 
form. It may almost be regarded as the 
primary essence of character. It is in virtue- 
of this quality that Shakespeare defines man^ 
as a being "looking before and after." It: 
forms the chief distinction between man and' 
the mere animal; and, indeed, there can be- 
no true manhood without it. 

Self-control is at the root of all the virtues.. 
Let a man give the reins to his impulses and 
passions, and from that moment he yields up 

321 




SELF-CONTROL. 



^22 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



323 



his moral freedom. He is carried along the 
current of life, and becomes the slave of his 
strongest desire for the time being. 

To be morally free — to be more than an 
animal — man must be able to resist instinc- 
tive impulse, and this can only be done by 
the exercise of self-control. Thus it is this 
power which constitutes the real distinction 
between a physical and a moral life, and that 
forms the primary basis of individual char- 
acter. 

The Greatest Man. 

In the Bible praise is given, not to the 
Strong man who "taketh a city," but to the 
stronger man who "ruleth his own spirit." 
This stronger man is he who, by disci- 
pline, exercises a constant control over his 
thoughts, his speech, and his acts. Nine- 
tenths of the vicious desires that degrade 
society, and which, when indulged, swell 
into the crimes that disgrace it, would 
shrink into insignificance before the advance 
of valiant self-discipline, self-respect, and self- 
control. By the watchful exercise of these 
virtues, purity of heart and mind become 
habitual, and the character is built up in 
chastity, virtue, and temperance. 

The best support of character will always 
be found in habit, which, according as the 
will is directed rightly or wrongly, as the 
case may be, will prove either a benignant 
ruler or a cruel despot. We may be its 
willing subject on the one hand, or its servile 
slave on the other. It may help us on the 
road to good, or it may hurry us on the 
road to ruin. 

Habit is formed by careful training. And 
it is astonishing how much can be accom- 
plished by systematic discipline and drill. 
See how, for instance, out of the most un- 
promising materials — such as roughs picked 
up in the streets, or raw unkempt country 



lads taken from the plough — steady disci- 
pline and drill will bring out the unsus- 
pected qualities of courage, endurance, and 
self-sacrifice; and how, in the field of battle, 
or even on the more trying occasions of 
perils by sea, such men, carefully disciplined, 
will exhibit the unmistakable characteristics 
of true bravery and heroism! 

Nor is moral discipline and drill less in- 
fluential in the formation of character. With- 
out it, there will be no proper system and 
order in the regulation of the life. Upon it 
depends the cultivation of the sense of self- 
respect, the education of the habit of obedi- 
ence, the development of the idea of duty. 

The most self-reliant, self-governing man 
is always under discipline; and the more 
perfect the discipline, the higher will be his 
moral condition. He has to drill his desires, 
and keep them in subjection to the higher 
powers of his nature. They must obey the 
word of command of the internal monitor, 
the conscience — otherwise they will be but 
the mere slaves of their inclinations, the 
sport of feeling and impulse. 

Value of Self-Restraint. 

"In the supremacy of self-control," says 
Herbert Spencer, " consists one of the per- 
fections of the ideal man. Not to be impul- 
sive — not to be spurred hither and thither by 
each desire that in turn comes uppermost — 
but to be self-restrained, self-balanced, gov- 
erned by the joint decision of the feelings in 
council assembled, before whom every action 
shall have been fully debated and calmly 
determined — that it is which education, moral 
education at least, strives to produce." 

The first seminary of moral discipline, and 
the best, as we have already shown, is the 
home ; next comes the school, and after that 
the world, the great school of practical life. 
Each is preparatory to the other, and what 



324 



SELF-CONTROL. 



the man or woman becomes, depends for the 
most part upon what has gone before. If 
they have enjoyed the advantage of neither 
the home nor the school, but have been 
allowed to grow up untrained, untaught, and 
undisciplined, then woe to themselves — woe 
to the society of which they form a part ! 

The best-regulated home is always that in 
which the discipline is the most perfect, and 
yet where it is the least felt. Moral disci- 
pline acts with the force of a law of nature. 
Those subject to it yield themselves to it 
unconsciously; and though it shapes and 
forms the whole character, until the life 
becomes crystallized in habit, the influence 
thus exercised is for the most part unseen 
and almost unfelt. 

Best Remedy for Vexations. 

Thus the strongest and most explosive 
natures can be brought into subjection. The 
man who said he always stopped to count a 
hundred when provoked before making a 
reply would have done better had he been 
incapable of being provoked. Or, if one 
cannot always show such a heavenly dispo- 
sition, if there must be irritation when there 
is good reason for it, the calm demeanor will 
always be found to remedy the trouble better 
than rage. 

Although the moral character depends in 
a great degree on temperament and on 
physical health, as well as on domestic and 
early training and the example of compan- 
ions, it is also in the power of each individual 
to regulate, to restrain, and to discipline it 
by watchful and persevering self-control. 
A competent teacher has said of the propen- 
sities and habits, that they are as teachable 
as Latin and Greek, while they are much 
more essential to happiness. 

Dr. Johnson, though himself constitution- 
ally prone to melancholy, and afflicted by it 



as few have been from his earliest years, said 
that " a man's being in a good or bad humor 
very much depends upon his will." We 
may train ourselves in a habit of patience 
and contentment on the one hand, or of 
grumbling and discontent on the other. 
We may accustom ourselves to exaggerate 
small evils, and to underestimate great bless- 
ings. We may even become the victim of 
petty miseries by giving way to them. 

The Cheerful Disposition, 

Thus, we may educate ourselves in a 
happy disposition, as well as in a morbid one. 
Indeed, the habit of viewing things cheer- 
fully, and of thinking about hfe hopefully, 
may be made to grow up in us like any 
other habit. 

The religious man's life is pervaded by 
rigid self-discipline and self-restraint. He 
is to be sober and vigilant, to eschew evil 
and do good, to walk in the Spirit, to be 
obedient unto death, to withstand in the evil 
day, and, having done all, to stand ; to 
wrestle against spiritual wickedness, and 
against the rulers of the darkness of this 
world ; to be rooted and built up in faith, 
and not to be weary in well-doing ; for in 
due season he shall reap, if he faint not. 

The man of business, also, must needs be 
subject to strict rule and system. Business 
success depends in no small degree upon 
that regulation of temper and careful self- 
discipline, which give a wise man not only a 
command over himself, but over others. 
Forbearance and self-control smooth the 
road of life, and open many ways which 
would otherwise remain closed. And so 
does self-respect ; for as men respect them- 
selves, so will they usually respect the per- 
sonality of others. And this, it must be 
remembered, is a prime factor in gaining 
the best results in everyday life. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



325 



An Even Temper. 

There's not a cheaper thing on earth, 

Nor yet one half so dear ; 
'Tis worth more than distinguished birth, 

Or thousands gained a year. 
It maketh poverty content, 

To sorrow whispers peace ; 
It is a gift from heaven sent. 

For mortals to increase. 

A charm to banish grief away, 

To free the brow from care — 
Turns tears to smiles, makes dulness gay. 

Spreads gladness everywhere. 
And yet 'tis cheap as summer's dew 

That gems the lily's breast — ■ 
A talisman for love as true 

As ever man possessed. 

As smiles the rainbow through the cloud 

When threat' ning storm begins. 
As music 'mid the tempest loud 

That still its sweet way wins, 
As springs an arch across the tide 

When waves conflicting foam, 
So comes the seraph to our side. 

The angel to our home. 

What may this wondering spirit be. 

With power unheard before ; 
This charm, this bright divinity ? 

Good nature — nothing more. 
'Good temper — 'tis the choicest gift 

That woman homeward brings, 
And can the poorest peasant lift 

To bliss unknown to kings. 

Charles Swain. 

A Strong temper is not necessarily a bad 
temper. But the stronger the temper, the 
greater is the need of self-discipline and self- 
control. It is not men's faults that ruin 
them so much as the manner in which they 
conduct themselves after the faults have been 
committed. The wise will profit by the suf- 
fering they cause, and eschew them for the 
future ; but there are those on whom expe- 
rience exerts no ripening influence, and who 
only grow narrower and bitterer, and more 
vicious with time. 

What is called strong temper in a young 



man, often indicates a large amount of unripe 
energy, which will expend itself in useful 
work if the road be fairly opened to it. It is 
said of Stephen Girard that when he heard 
of a clerk with a strong temper, he would 
readily take him into his employment, and 
set him to work in a room by himself; 
Girard being of opinion that such persons 
were the best workers, and that their energy 
would expend itself in work if removed from 
the temptation to quarrel. 

Girard was as shrewd in managing men as 
he was in making money ; in fact, his ability 
to control men was one great secret of his 
fortune. In the College that stands as his 
monument in Philadelphia, the pupils are put 
under military drill and strict discipline with 
a view to teaching them perfect self-control. 

Foam and Fury. 

Strong temper may only mean a strong 
and excitable will. Uncontrolled, it displays 
itself in fitful outbreaks of passion ; but con- 
trolled and held in subjection — like steam 
pent-up within the organized mechanism of 
a steam engine, the use of which is regulated 
and controlled by sHde-valves and governors 
and levers — it may become a source of ener- 
getic power and usefulness. Hence some of 
the greatest characters in history have been 
men of strong temper, but of equally strong 
determination to hold their motive-power 
under strict regulation and control. 

Cromwell is described as having been of a 
wayward and violent temper in his youth — 
cross, untractable, and masterless — with a 
vast quantity of youthful energy, which ex- 
ploded in a variety of youthful mischiefs. 
He even obtained the reputation of a rowdy 
in his native town, and seemed to be rapidly 
going to the bad, when religion, in one of its 
most rigid forms, laid hold upon his strong 
nature, and subjected it to the iron discipline 



I 



326 



SELF-CONTROL. 



of Calvinism. An entirely new direction was 
thus given to his energy of temperament, 
which forced an outlet for itself into public 
life, and eventually became the dominating 



of self-control, self-denial, and determination 
of purpose. William the Silent was so 
called, not because he was a taciturn man — 
for he was an eloquent and powerful speaker 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 



influence in England for a period of nearly 
twenty years. The iron hand was always 
felt under the velvet glove. 

The heroic princes of the house of Nassau 
were all distinguished for the same qualities 



where eloquence was necessary — but because 
he was a man who could hold his tongue 
when it was wisdom not to speak, and 
because he carefully kept his own counsel 
when to have revealed it might have beea 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



327 



dangerous to the liberties of his country and 
equally dangerous to himself. 

He was so gentle and conciliatory in his 
manner that his enemies even described him 
as timid and pussillanimous. Yet, when the 
time for action came, his courage was heroic, 
his determination unconquerable. " The 
rock in the ocean," says Mr. Motley, the his- 
torian of the Netherlands, " tranquil amid 
raging billows, was the favorite emblem by 
which his friends expressed their sense of his 
firmness." 

Two Renowned Patriots. 

Mr. Motley compares WilHam the Silent 
to Washington, whom he in many respects 
resembled. The American, like the Dutch 
patriot, stands out in history as the very 
impersonation of dignity, bravery, purity, and 
personal excellence. His command over his 
feelings, even in moments of great difficulty 
and danger, was such as to convey the 
impression, to those who did not know him 
intimately, that he was a man of inborn 
calmness and almost impassiveness of dispo- 
sition. Yet Washington was by nature 
ardent and impetuous ; his mildness, gentle- 
ness, politeness, and consideration for others, 
were the result of rigid self-control and un- 
wearied self-discipline, which he diligently 
practiced even from his boyhood. His 
biographer says of him, that " his tempera- 
ment was ardent, his passions strong, and, 
amidst the multiplied scenes of temptation 
and excitement through which he passed, it 
was his constant effort, and ultimate triumph, 
to check the one and subdue the other." 

And again : " His passions were strong, 
and sometimes they broke out with vehe- 
mence, but he had the power of checking 
them in an instant. Perhaps self-control was 
the most remarkable trait of his character. 
It was in part the effect of discipline ; yet he 



seems by nature to have possessed this power 
in a degree which has been denied to other 
men." 

His faculties were so well balanced and 
combined that his constitution, free from 
excess, was tempered evenly with all the ele- 
ments of activity, and his mind resembled a 
well-organized commonwealth ; his passions, 
which had the intensest vigor, owned allegi- 
ance to reason ; and with all the fiery quick- 
ness of his spirit, his impetuous and massive 
will was held in check by consummate judg- 
ment. He had in his composition a calm 
which gave him in moments of highest 
excitement the power of self-control, and 
enabled him to excel in patience, even when 
he had most cause for disgust. 

Calm in Battle. 

The Duke of Wellington's natural temper,, 
like that of Napoleon, was irritable in the 
extreme, and it was only by watchful self- 
control that he was enabled to restrain it. 
He studied calmness and coolness in the 
midst of danger, like any Indian chief. At 
Waterloo, and elsewhere, he gave his orders 
in the most critical moments without the 
slightest excitement, and in a tone of voice 
almost more than usually subdued. 

Napoleon when twenty-six years of age 
was made commander-in-chief of the army 
of Italy, with many veteran officers under 
him. 

He said, " I pursued a line of conduct in- 
the highest degree irreproachable and exem- 
plary. My supremacy could be retained 
only by proving myself a better man than 
any other man in the army. Had I yielded 
to human weaknesses I should have lost my 
power." 

Wordsworth the poet was, in his child- 
hood, " of a stiff", moody and violent temper," 
and "perverse and obstinate in defying chas- 



k 



328 



SELF-CONTROL. 



tisement." When experience of life had I to defy the criticism of his enemies. Nothing 
disciplined his temper, he learnt to exercise was more marked than Wordsworth's self- 




»P^^@ 



THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 



greater self-control; but, at the same time, 
the qualities which distinguished him as a 
child were afterwards useful in enabling him 



respect and self-determination, as well as his 
self-consciousness of power, at all periods of 
his long and brilliant history. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



329 



Henry Martyn, the missionary, was 
another instance of a man in whom strength 
of temper was only so much pent-up, unripe 
energy. As a boy he was impatient, petu- 
lant and perverse; but by constant wrestling 
against his tendency to wrongheadedness, he 
gradually gained the requisite strength, so 
as to entirely overcome it, and to acquire 
what he so greatly coveted — the gift of 
patience. 

A man may be feeble in organization, but, 
blessed with a happy temperament, his soul 
may be great, active, noble and sovereign. 
Professor Tyndall has given us a fine picture 
of the character of Faraday, and of his self- 
denying labors in the cause of science — 
exhibiting him as a man of strong, original, 
and even fiery nature, and yet of extreme 
tenderness and sensibility. "Underneath 
his sweetness and gentleness," he says, 
"was the heat of a volcano. He was a 
man of excitable and fiery nature; but, 
through high self-disciphne, he had con- 
verted the fire into a central glow and 
motive-power of life, instead of permitting 
it to waste itself in useless passion." 

Had no Use for a Bad Temper. 

This may be said of all strong characters. 
The Duke of Marlborough, possessed great 
command of temper, and never permitted it 
to be ruffled by little things, in which even 
the greatest men have been occasionally 
found unguarded. As he was riding one 
day with Commissary Marriott, it began to 
rain, and he called to his servant for his 
•cloak. The servant not bringing it imme- 
diately, he called for it again. The servant, 
being embarrassed with the straps and 
buckles, did not come up to him. At last, 
at raining very hard, the Duke called to him 
again, and asked him what he was about that 
he did not bring his cloak. '^ You must stay. 



sir," grumbled the fellow, "if it rains cats 
and dogs, till I can get at it." The Duke 
turned round to Marriott, and said very 
coolly, " Now I would not be of that fel- 
low's temper for all the world." 

Milton says : " He who reigns within him- 
self, and rules passions, desires and fears, is 
more than a king." 

"I Hold Still." 

Pain's furnace-heat within me quivers, 
God's breath upon the flame doth blow, 

And all my heart within me shivers 
And trembles at the fiery glow ; 

And yet I whisper — "As God will ! " 

And in the hottest fire, hold still. 

He comes and lays my heart, all heated, 

On the hard anvil, minded so 
Into His own fair shape to beat it, 

With His own hammer, blow on blow , 
And yet I whisper — "As God will ! " 
And at His heaviest blows, hold still. 

He takes my softened heart, and beats it — 

The sparks fly ofi" at every blow : 
He turns it o'er and o'er, and heats it. 

And lets it cool, and makes it glow ; 
And yet I whisper — "As God will ! " 
And in the mighty hand, hold still. 

Why should I murmur ? for the sorrow 
Thus only longer lived would be ; 

Its end may come, and will, to-morrow. 
When God has done His work in me. 

So I say, trusting — "As God will ! " 

And trusting to the end, hold still. 

He kindles for my profit purely 

Aifiiction's glowing, fiery brand. 
And all His heaviest blows are surely 

Inflicted by a Master's hand ; 
So I say, praying, "As God will ! " 
And hope in Him and suffer still. 

It is necessary to one's personal happi- 
ness, to exercise control over one's words 
as well as acts: for there are words that 
strike even harder than blows; and men 
may "speak daggers," though they use 
none. The stinging repartee that rises to 



330 



SELF-CONTROL. 



the lips, and which, if uttered, might cover 
an adversary Avith confusion, how difficult 
it sometimes is to resist it! Heaven keep 
us from the destroying power of words! 
There are words which sever hearts more 
than sharp swords do ; there are words the 
point of which sting the heart through the 
course of a whole life. 

Regard for Others' Feelings. 

Thus character exhibits itself in self-con- 
trol of speech as much as in anything else. 
The wise and forbearant man will restrain 
his desire to say a smart or severe thing at 
the expense of another's feelings; while the 
fool blurts out what he thinks, and will sac- 
rifice his friend rather .than his joke. "The 
mouth of a wise man," said Solomon, "is 
in his heart; the heart of a fool is in his 
mouth." 

There are, however, men who are no fools, 
that are headlong in their language as in 
their acts, because of their want of forbear- 
ance and self-restraining patience. The im- 
pulsive genius, gifted with quick thought and 
incisive speech — perhaps carried away by 
the cheers of the moment — lets fly a sarcas- 
tic sentence which may return upon him to 
his own infinite damage. 

Even statesmen might be named, who 
have failed through their inability to resist 
the temptation of saying clever and spiteful 
things at their adversary's expense. This 
was the great failing of that man of magnifi- 
cent abilities. Senator Roscoe Conkling. 
While he had a host of admirers, even wor- 
shippers, he also had the bitterest enemies, 
made so by his lack of control over his own 
sarcastic tongue. 

"The turn of a sentence," says Bentham, 
"has decided the fate of many a friendship, 
and, for aught that we know, the fate of 
many a kingdom." So, when one is tempted 



to write a clever but harsh thing, though it 
may be difficult to restrain it, it is always 
better to leave it in the inkstand. "A goose's 
quill," says the Spanish proverb, " oftea 
hurts more than a lion's claw." 

Carlyle says, when speaking of Oliver 
Cromwell, " He that cannot withal keep his 
mind to himself, cannot practice any consid- 
erable thing whatsoever." It was said of 
William the Silent, by one of his greatest 
enemies, that an arrogant or indiscreet word 
was never known to fall from his lips. Like 
him, Washington was discretion itself in the 
use of speech, never taking advantage of an 
opponent, or seeking a short-lived triumph 
in a debate. And it is said that, in the long 
run, the world comes round to and supports 
the wise man who knows when and how to 
be silent. 

Holding One's Tongue. 

We have heard men of great experience 
say that they have often regretted having 
spoken, but never once regretted holding 
their tongue. " Be silent," says Pythagoras, 
"or say something better than silence." 
"Speak fitly," says George Herbert, "or be 
silent wisely." St. Francis de Sales, whom 
Leigh Hunt styled "the Gentleman Saint,"' 
has said : " It is better to remain silent than 
to speak the truth ill-humoredly, and so 
spoil an excellent dish by covering it with 
bad sauce." 

There are, of course, times and occasions 
when the expression of indignation is not 
only justifiable but necessary. We are 
bound to be indignant at falsehood, selfish- 
ness, and cruelty. A man of true feeling 
fires up naturally at baseness or meanness of 
any sort, even in cases where he may be 
under no obligation to speak out. " I would 
have nothing to do," said Perthes, " with the 
man who cannot be moved to indignation. 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



331 



There are more good people than bad in the 
world, and the bad get the upper hand 
merely because they are bolder. We cannot 
help being pleased with a man who uses his 
powers with decision ; and we often take his 
side for no other reason than because he 
does not so use them. No doubt, I have 
often repented speaking ; but not less often 
have I repented keeping silence." 

To acquire the art of properly command- 
ing ourselves, in all circumstances — especially 
in the most trying emergencies, and at a 
moment of dajiger, when not a minute, per- 
haps not a second, should be lost — is as 
difficult as it is important to every person ; 
and to none perhaps more so, than to young 
women. Not that their trials of this sort 
will be more frequent than those of other 
people ; but because the usual course of 
their education is such as to prepare them 
but poorly to meet those which fall to their 
lot. 

A Heroic Woman. 
Some years ago, when the Indians had 
not yet done making depredations on the 
inhabitants of our then frontier states, Ken- 
tucky and Ohio, a band of these savage men 
came to the door of a house in Nelson 
county, Ky., and having shot down the 
father of the little family within, who had 
incautiously opened the door, they attempted 
to rush in and put to death the defenceless 
and unoffending mother and her children. 
But Mrs. Merrill — for that was the name of 
the heroic woman — had much of that self- 
command, or presence of mind, which was 
now so needful. She drew her wounded 
husband into the house, closed the door and 
barred it as quickly as possible, so that the 
Indians could not enter at once, and then 
proceeded to the defence of " her castle," and 
all those in it whom she held dear. 



The Indians had soon hewed away a part 
of the door, so that they could force them- 
selves in, one by one, but not very rapidly. 
This slow mode of entrance gave time to 
Mrs. Merrill to despatch them with an axe, 
and drag them in; so that before those with- 
out were aware of the fate of those inside, 
she had, with a little assistance from her 
husband, formed quite a pile of dead bodies 
within and around the door; and even the 
little children, half dead though they at first 
were with fear, had gradually begun to re- 
cover from their fright. 

Conquered by Strategy. 

The Indians, finding their party so rapidly 
disappearing, at length began to suspect what 
was their fate, and accordingly gave up their 
efforts in that direction. They now attempted 
to descend into the house by way of the 
chimney. The united wisdom and presence 
of mind of the family was again put in 
requisition, and they emptied upon the fire 
the contents of a feather bed, which brought 
down, half smothered, those Indians that 
were in the chimney, who were also soon 
and easily despatched. The remainder of 
the party, now very much reduced in num- 
bers, became quite discouraged, and • con- 
cluded it was best to retire. 

I have not related this story because I 
suppose any of my readers will ever be tried 
in this particular manner. Many of them,, 
however, may be placed in circumstances 
exceedingly trying; and their lives and 
those of others may depend on a little 
presence of mind. 

Suppose, now, that Mrs. Merrill, instead 
of dragging her wounded husband into the 
house and fastening the door, had stood still 
and screamed; or suppose she had fainted, 
or run away; what would have been the 
result? We do not know, it is true; but we 



332 



SELF-CONTROL. 



know enough of the Indian mode of warfare 
to see that no condition could well be more 
perilous. 

It cannot be denied that the large share 
of nervous sensibility which is allotted to the 
female constitution, peculiarly unfits woman 
for scenes of blood. And yet we see what 
can be done, as a last resort. 

But if most females were fitted for trying 
emergencies, how much better they could 
meet the- more common accidents and dan- 
gers to which human existence is daily more 
or less liable. And ought they not to be 
thus fitted? 

Do you ask how it can be done? It is a 
work that is at present chiefly left undone, 
both by parents and teachers, and yet hun- 
dreds of lives are lost every year for the 
want of it ; and hundreds of others are likely 
to be lost in the same way every year for 
many years to come, unless the work is 
taken up as a work of importance, and 
studied with as much zeal as grammar, or 
geography, or botany, or mathematics. 

You should have Presence of Mind. 

It is a most pitiable sight to see a young 
woman, twelve, fifteen, or it may be eighteen 
years of age, left to take care of a babe, 
suffer its clothes to get on fire by some 
accident, and then, without the least particle 
of self-command, only jump up and down 
and scream, till the child is burnt to death ; 
or what perhaps is still worse, rush out for 
relief, leaving the door wide open to let 
through a current of air to hasten the work 
of destruction. 

Equally distressing and pitiable is it, to 
see females, young or old, losing all presence 
of mind the moment a horse takes fright, or 
a gale of wind capsizes the vessel in which 
they are traveling, and by their erratic move- 
ments, depriving themselves of the only 



opportunity which remains to them, of sav- 
ing themselves or of assisting to save others. 

But the question recurs — How can these 
evils be prevented? In what way can our 
young women be taught — or in what way 
can they be induced to teach themselves — 
the important art of commanding themselves, 
on all occasions, and in all emergencies? 

The only way of being prepared for the 
sudden accidents of life — by being able to 
keep cool, and possess our souls in peace — 
is to think on the subject often, and con- 
sider what we would do, should such and 
such accidents occur. 

Anticipating Dangers. 

Thus we should consider often what we 
ought to do, if a horse in a carriage should 
run away with us; if we should awake and 
find the house on fire over our heads — what 
to be done, if we were in this room or in 
that ; if our clothes should take fire ; if we 
should be burnt or scalded — what to be done 
if scalded with water, and what, if with milk, 
oil, or any other substance; if a child should 
fall into a well, be kicked by a horse, be 
seized by convulsions, or break or dislocate 
a limb. 

It will be asked of what avail it is to think 
over and over what should be done, without 
the instructions, either of experience or 
science. But we can have these instructions, 
to some extent, whenever we seek after them. 
The great trouble is, we are not in the habit 
of seeking for them ; and what we do not 
seek, we rarely, if ever, find. 

There are around every young woman, 
those whose judgment is worth something in 
this matter. It is not always the old — 
though it is more generally such. There 
are those who live in the world almost half a 
century without learning anything; and there 
are also those who become wise in a quarter 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



333 



of a century. The wise, whatever may be 
their age, are the persons for you to consult ; 
and the older such persons are, the better — 
because the greater is likely to be their 
wisdom. The truly wise, are always grow- 
ing wiser ; it is the fool alone who remains 
stationary. 

It is no part of my purpose to direct to the 
appropriate methods of saving ourselves or 
our friends from harm, in case of accidents 
or emergencies ; but only to point to the 
subject, and leave the reader to pursue it. 
The intelligent young woman who sets about 
gaining the habit of self-command, will not 
only consult the experience of others, but 
observe, and reflect, and reason on the case 
herself. She will often originate plans and 
means of escape, in places and circumstances 
of danger, which she would not gain from 
others in a hundred or a thousand years. 

Make the Most of It. 

There is one other means of improvement 
in the art of self-command. It is to make 
the most of every little accident or emergency 
that actually overtakes or surprises us. 
There are those who, though they were 
formerly frightened half out of their senses, 
at the sudden sight of a harmless snake, 
have brought themselves, by dint of long 
effort, to so much presence of mind, as only 
to start a little at first — and to be as calm, 
and composed, and self-possessed, in a few 
seconds afterward, as if nothing had hap- 
pened. And the same presence of mind 
may be obtained in other surprises or emer- 
gencies. Besides, she who is learning to 
command herself at sight of a snake or a 
dog, is at the same time acquiring the 
power to command herself in any other 
circumstances where self-command may be 
necessary. 

What we want is. 



to gain the habit of self- 



command in all circumstances, rather than 
to be able to work ourselves up to a proper 
state of feeling in particular cases; and 
this habit is to be acquired by frequent 
familiar conversation on the subject, and by 
daily practice in the continually recurring 
small matters of life. 

Acquiring Self-Control. 

It is, indeed, in governing ourselves in 
these small matters — which recur so fre- 
quently, and are regarded as so trifling as to 
have not only no moral character in them- 
selves, but no influence in the formation of 
character — that the art of self-control is to 
be chiefly acquired. They who defer the 
work till some larger or more striking emer- 
gency arrives, will not be likely to make 
much progress ; for they begin at the wrong 
end of the matter. They begin exactly 
where they ought to end. 

Life will always be, to a great extent, 
what we ourselves make it. The cheerful 
man makes a cheerful world, the gloomy 
man a gloomy one. We usually find but 
our own temperament reflected in the dispo- 
sitions of those about us. If we are ourselves 
querulous, we will find them so; if we are 
unforgiving and uncharitable to them, they 
will be the same to us. A person returning 
from an evening party not long ago, com- 
plained to a policeman on his beat that an 
ill-looking fellow was following him: it 
turned out to be only his own shadow ! And 
such usually is human life to each of us ; it 
is, for the most part, but the reflection of 
ourselves. 

If we would be at peace with others, and 
insure their respect, we must have regard for 
their personality. Every man has his pucu- 
liarities of manner and character, as he has 
peculiarities of form and feature ; and we 
must have forbearance in dealing with them, 



334 



SELF-CONTROL. 



as we expect them to have forbearance in 
dealing with us. We may not be conscious 
of our own peculiarities, yet they exist never- 
theless. There is a village in South America 
where goitres — an enlargement of the neck — 
are so common that to be without one is 
regarded as a deformity. One day a party 
of Englishmen passed through the place, 
when quite a crowd collected to jeer them, 
shouting : "See, see these people — they have 
got no goitres f" 

Senseless Worry. 

Many persons give themselves a great 
deal of fidget concerning what other people 
think of them and their peculiarities. Some 
are too much disposed to take the ill-natured 
side, and, judging by themselves, infer the 
worst. But it is very often the case that the 
uncharitableness of others, ■ where it really 
exists, is but the reflection of our own want 
of charity and want of temper. It still 
oftener happens, that the worry we subject 
ourselves to has its source in our own imagi- 
nation. And even though those about us 
may think of us uncharitably, we shall not 
mend matters by exasperating ourselves 
against them. We may thereby only expose 
ourselves unnecessarily to their ill-nature or 
caprice. "The ill that comes out of our 
mouth," says George Herbert, " ofttimes 
falls into our bosom." 

The great and good philosopher Faraday 
communicated the following piece of admira- 
ble advice, full of practical wisdom, the result 
of a rich experience of life, in a letter to a 
friend : " Let me, as an old man, who ought 
by this time to have profited by experience, 
say that when I was younger I found I often 
misrepresented the intentions of people, and 
that they did not mean what at the time I 
supposed they meant ; and further, that, as 
a general rule, it was better to be a little dull 



of apprehension where phrases seemed to 
imply pique, and quick in perception when, 
on the contrary, they seemed to imply 
kindly feeling. The real truth never fails 
ultimately to appear ; and opposing parties, 
if wrong, are sooner convinced when replied 
to forbearingly, than when overwhelmed. 

"All I mean to say is, that it is better to 
be blind to the results of partisanship, and 
quick to see good-will. One has more 
happiness in one's self in endeavoring to 
follow the things that make for peace. You 
can hardly imagine how often I have been 
heated in private when opposed, as I have 
thought unjustly and superciliously, and yet 
I have striven, and succeeded, I hope, in 
keeping down replies of the like kind ; and I 
know I have never lost by it." 

Something hard to Practice. 

It is far easier to recommend self-control 
than to practice it. We can always advise 
what others should do better than we can 
do the same thing ourselves. 

No one knew the value of self-control 
better than the poet Burns, and no one 
could teach it more eloquently to others; 
but when it came to practice. Burns was as 
weak as the weakest. He could not deny 
himself the pleasure of uttering a harsh and 
clever sarcasm at another's expense. One 
of his biographers observes of him, that it 
was no extravagant arithmetic to say that 
for every ten jokes he made himself a hun- 
dred enemies. But this was not all. Poor 
Burns exercised no control over his appetites, 
but freely gave them the rein : 

' ' Thus thoughtless follies laid him low 
And stained his name." 

One of Burns 's finest poems, written in 
his twenty-eighth year, is entitled "A Bard's 
Epitaph." It is a description, by anticipa- 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



335 



tion, of his own life. It concludes with 
these lines : 

Reader, attend — whether thy soul 
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, 
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole 

In low pursuit ; 
Know — prudent, cautious self-control. 

Is wisdom's root. 



The courage of self-control exhibits itself 
in many ways, but in none more clearly than 
in honest living. Men without the virtue of 
self-denial are not only subject to their own 
selfish desires, but they are usually in bond- 
age to others who are like-minded with them- 
selves. What others do, they do. They 
must live according to the artificial standard 
of their class, spending like their neighbors, 
regardless of the consequences, at the same 
time that all are, perhaps, aspiring after a 
5tyle of living higher than their means. 



Each carries the others along with him, and 
they have not the moral courage to stop. 
They cannot resist the temptation of living 
high, though it may be at the expense of 
others ; and they gradually become reckless 
of debt, until it enthralls them. In all this 
there is great moral cowardice, pusillanimity, 
and want of manly independence of character. 
A right-minded man will shrink from 
seeming to be what he is not, or pretending 
to be richer than he really is, or assuming 
a style of living that his circumstances will 
not justify. He will have the courage to 
live honestly within his own means, rather 
than dishonestly upon the means of other 
people; for he who incurs debts in striving 
to maintain a style of living beyond his 
income, is in spirit as dishonest as the man 
who openly picks your pocket. 



SELF=CONTROL IN ADVERSITY. 



Some time, when all life's lessons have been learned, 

And sun and stars forevermore have set. 
The things which our weak judgments here have 
spurned — 

The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet — 
Will flash before us, out of life's dark night, 

As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue ; 
And we shall see how all God's plans were right. 

And how what seemed reproof was love most true. 

And we shall see how, while we frown and sigh, 

God's plans go on as best for you and me ; 
How, when we called, He heeded not our cry. 

Because His wisdom to the end could see. 
And even as wise parents disallow 

Too much of sweet to craving babyhood, 
So, God, perhaps, is keeping from us now 

Life's sweetest things because it seemeth good. 

And if, sometimes, commingled with life's wine. 
We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink. 

Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine 
Pours out this portion for our lips to drink. 



And if some friend we love is lying low. 
Where human kisses cannot reach his face. 

Oh, do not blame the loving Father so. 

But wear your sorrow with obedient grace ! 

And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath 

Is not the sweetest gift God sends His friend, 
And that, sometimes, the sable pall of death 

Conceals the fairest boon His love can send. 
If we could push ajar the gates of life. 

And stand within, and all God's workings see 
We could interpret all this doubt and strife. 

And for each mystery could find a key ! 

But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart ! 

God's plans, like lilies, pure and white unfold, 
We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart ; 

Time will reveal the calyxes of gold. 
And if, through patient toil, we reach the land 

Where tired feet, with sandals loose, may rest. 
When we shall clearly know and understand, 

I think that we will say, " God knew the best ! " 
May Rir,EY Smith. 




CONTENTMENT. 



CHAPTER XXI. 
CONTENTMENT. 




T is very easy for those who have 
everything they need, to advise 
those who have not everything 
they need to be contented, and 
makethebest of their lot. Noth- 
ing is cheaper than advice and 
nothing is more common than 
to gravely tell other people what they should 
do when we really know nothing of their 
circumstances and trials. The bird in the 
fable could not understand why the fish on 
the bank of the stream was so uneasy, but 
the bird if plunged in the water would have 
been no less troubled. The fact is, we give 
a'dvice when we do not know anything about 
the situation. 

Why should not rich peopl' and all those 
whose wants are gratified be contented ? 
"Don't worry," they say, "don't fret, don't 
get into a passion, be content with your lot." 
One might well reply, "Exchange places 
with me and I will be as contented as you 
are." Certainly, a contented mind is a con- 
tinual feast, but how am I to have the con- 
tinual feast when plans fail, health is broken, 
the purse yawns, the wardrobe is shabby, the 
agent is clamoring for rent, the children's 
toes are in plain sight in winter, and all 
things are against me ? 

Yet it is certain there is such a thing as 
contentment and it is a good thing to have. 
You do not need to make the worst of your 
lot ; you should make the best of it. Don't 
pull your hat down over your eyes and then 
complain that you cannot see God's sunlight 
and flowers. Have an eye to the bright and 
22 



beautiful things of life. No outward lot can 
give content to a grumbling soul. Astor's 
millions could not do it. And a contented 
spirit may be found in the humblest home. 
" It is a great blessing to possess what one 
wishes," said a man to an ancient philoso- 
pher. "It is a greater still," was the reply, 
"not to desire what one does not possess." 
John Newton once made this remark, " If 
two angels were sent down from heaven, one 
to conduct an empire and the other to sweep 
a street, they would feel no inclination to 
change employments." You, being human, 
would much prefer to give up the street 
sweeping and govern the empire ; so would I. 
We would rebel against the menial employ- 
ment, but then we are not angels. This 
chapter, to be really practical, should be 
aimed at those who are habitu-al fault-finders. 

Cultivating Contentment. 

If we cannot have all we wish upon the earth. 
Let us try to be happy with less if we can ; 

If wealth be not always the guerdon of worth. 

Worth, sooner than wealth, makes the happier 



Is it wise to be anxious for pleasures afar — 

And the pleasures around us to slight or decry ? 

Asking Night for the sun— asking Day for the star? 
L,et us conquer such faults, or, at least, let us try. 

If the soil of a garden be worthy our care 
Its culture delightful, though ever so small ; 

Oh then let the heart the same diligence share. 
And the flowers of affection will rival them all. 

There ne'er was delusion more constantly shown. 
Than that wealth every charm of existence can 
buy ; 

337 



338 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



As long as love, friendship, and truth are life's own, 
All hearts may be happy, if all hearts will try ! 
Chari^es Swain. 

Contentment Gained. 

My conscience is my crown, contented thoughts my 

rest. 
My heart is happy in itself, my bliss is in my 

breast. 
Enough I reckon wealth : a mean the surest lot, 
'^hat lies too high for base contempt, too low for 

envy's shot. 
My wishes are but few, all easy to fulfil, 
I make the limits of my pov/er the bonds unto my 

will. 
I have no hopes but one, which is of heavenly reign ; 
Effects attained, or not desired, all lower hopes 

refrain. 
I feel no care of coin, well-doing is my wealth. 
My mind to me an empire is, while grace affordeth 

health. 

Robert Southwei,!,. 

There are some persons who are always 
complaining. They are miserable and un- 
happy throughout the year, or, at least, they 
seem to be. The world is constantly at 
fault with them, and they rarely smile. 
Address them with the ordinary compli- 
ments of the day, and they are sure to find 
something to grumble at. The weather is 
never of the right kind. It is too hot or too 
cold, too wet or too dry; and thus they 
move on among their fellow-creatures, as a 
sort of personified chill. Their very appear- 
ance casts a shadow-like gloom over all 
around and about them. 

At home their meals are badly cooked, 
the servants are neglectful, and the children 
noisy and disobedient. Nothing goes on as 
it should. Everything has a drawback. 
Gayety is denounced as boisterousness, and 
a laugh is treated as a vulgarity. The poor 
wife, however obedient, is complained of, 
while, if she should be so unfortunate as to 
commit an error, it is magnified into a 
crime. 

These gloomy persons are never in good 



health. They are always troubled with 
some ache or pain. They are born to be 
miserable. At least, they so contend, and 
they often make themselves unhappy with- 
out the slightest cause. Life to them is a 
curse instead of a blessing. They M'ill not 
or they cannot appreciate the beneficence of 
Providence. If in narrow circumstances, 
they regard themselves as among the most 
unfortunate of mankind; and if, in the enjoy-' 
ment of abundant wealth, they become ner- 
vous, restless and anxious lest the golden 
prize should slip from their hands. Too 
much property they regard as a care and an 
incumbrance. And yet they are eager for 
the accumulation of more. They are not 
satisfied with themselves, and are at the 
same time envious and jealous of the rest of 
mankind. They look through jaundiced 
eyes, and are the victims of a discontented 
mind. 

Sour Grumblers. 

The curse is within. It is in the temper 
or heart. Alas ! for these wretched grum- 
blers — these miserable monomaniacs. They 
do not deserve the blessing of God's sun- 
shine, the pure air and the clear light of 
heaven, for they are ungrateful, insensible 
and unappreciating. They have no thought 
for others. Self is the absorbing idea ; and 
thus the poor may shiver in the shade, or 
languish on a bed of sickness, without 
exciting in their bosoms even a momentary 
sympathy ! 

How beautiful, in contrast, is the cheerful, 
the buoyant and the bounding spirit. Life is 
to such all bright and beautiful. Every new 
scene has a charm, every fresh incident an 
interest. The clouds of to-day are regarded 
as passing clouds, and sunshine is looked 
for on the morrow. A kind word is ever on 
the lips, a gentle thought is ever in the heart, 



CONTENTMENT. 



339 



a pleasant smile is ever in the countenance. 
To say a clever thing, or to do a good turn, 
is deemed a pleasure. Friendship is treas- 
ured as one of the brightest jewels of the 
human soul and love, in all its richness and 
truth, fidelity and warmth is regarded as an 
emanation from the Divine Being himself 
Life is full of hope and promise ; and even 
the mishaps and misfortunes to which all are 
more or less liable, are viewed in the true 
spirit of philosophy, as intended to chasten, 
to restrain, to keep us within moderate 
bounds and to remind 'us of our dependence 
upon Providence. 

The presence of the cheerful in spirit acts 
like a beam of sunshine to the social circle. 
It warms and brightens. It softens and sub- 
dues. The quality is a happy one in every 
condition of life. But it is especially so 
among friends and associates, and with those 
who have pledged themselves for weal or for 
woe. Imagine the household that is presided 
over by a spirit of discontent, disquiet, dis- 
satisfaction and gloom. 

A Cheerless Home. 

The effect cannot be but disheartening and 
chilling. Nay, one result inevitably is to 
make that home deserted. The cheerfulness 
that cannot be found there will be sought 
elsewhere. The complaints that are uttered 
again and again, at last become painful, and 
are avoided. Cheerfulness we regard as one 
of the essentials of domestic life. It should 
be cultivated with constant assiduity. With- 
out it, fretfulness, peevishness, anxiety and 
collision are almost inevitable. 

All who have determined, by choice, or 
who are forced by circumstances, to mingle 
together freely and frequently, to occupy 
hours and days in each other's society, 
should not permit themselves to give way to 
discontent, dissatisfaction, fretfulness and 



complaint. A sunny smile of welcome has 
touched and won many an obdurate heart. 
A kind word and a genial look, together 
with a cheerful temper, will, in the end, 
prove irresistible. At least, this is our 
doctrine, and we bespeak for it a fair trial. 

Riches of Contentment. 

It is the mind that maketh good or ill, 

That maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor ; 
For some that hath abundance at his will, 

Hath not enough ; but wants in greater store ; 

And other, that hath little, asks for more, 
But in that little is both rich and wise ; 

For wisdom is most riches ; fools therefore 
They are which fortune do by vows devise, 
Sith each imto himself his life may fortunize. 

Edmund Spenssr. 

Pleased with what I Have. 
I weigh not fortune's frown or smile ; 

I joy not much in earthly joys ; 
I seek not state, I seek not style ; 

I am not fond of fancy's toys ; 
I rest so pleased with what I have, 
I wish no more, no more I crave. 

I quake not at the thunder's crack ; 

I tremble not at noise of war ; 
I swound not at the news of wrack ; 

I shrink not at a blazing star ; 
I fear not loss, I hope not gain, 
I envy none, I none disdain. 

I see ambition never pleased ; 

I see some Tantals starved in store ; 
I see gold's dropsy seldom eased ; 

I see e'en Midas gape for more : 
I neither want, nor yet abound — 
Enough's a feast, content is crowned. 

I feign not friendship, where I hate ; 

I fawn not on the great in show ; 
I prize, I praise a mean estate — 

Neither too lofty nor too low : 
This, this is all my choice, my cheer- 

A mind content, a conscience clear. 

Joshua Sylvester 

Contentment is not a mere passive indiffer- 
ence. There is an easy-going class of 
people who seem incapable of any great 



340 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



disquietude. They are placid as a summer 
sky. They are too sluggish ever to be 
much excited ; their nerves are buried a 
thousand miles deep; they never explode, 
never chafe, never effervesce, never worry, 
are never found in an uncorked condition 
with a liabihty of running over. They 
appear to suffer no alarms ; they were never 
known to be in a hurry ; they believe the 
world was made a long time ago and noth- 
ing remains to be done to it ; they take 
thunder and lightning just about as they do 
sunshine. When others are moved they are 
serene. 

Easy-Going People. 

The nature is dull ; the disposition is that 
of indifference. The modulations of feeling 
have a very limited range, and are mostly 
played upon a single string. When they 
are awake and wish to go to sleep they 
never have to travel very far. Are they not 
contented souls ? You never see them 
ruffled or aroused. They are not of the 
sort who are always up in arms. They 
languidly float through life, and the experi- 
ences that disturb some natures do not 
ruffle their even repose. Good, easy souls, 
the blows that strike them do not send back 
the ring of metal — it is the dull thud of life- 
less wood. 

This is not contentment. It would be 
nearer truth to call it the contentment of 
laziness. It is the peace of sluggishness. 
Water may stand in pools all lifeless and be 
very placid, or it may move in deep rivers, 
fresh and cool and clear, and still be un- 
ruffled. The Amazon has its repose, and 
the stars reflected in its depths are not more 
calm. 

While contentment is not lazy indifference, 
it is equally removed from stoicism. A stoic 
is a man who really feels, yet says he will 



not feel ; who is sensitive and susceptible, 
yet hardens himself; who cultivates a don't- 
care spirit, and turns a man of flesh into a 
man of stone. 

This was an old philosophy. A certain 
school of moralists in Greece taught that the 
only mastery over the ills of life was to 
resist them, just as a bullet-headed, thick- 
skinned boy would nerve himself up to take 
his chastisement without wincing. Marble 
never flinches, bronze never weeps. It is 
the force of an unconquerable will arraying 
itself against adversity. The Red Indian 
calls it a brave thing to stand in the fire and 
neither shrink nor quiver. Well, any man 
can put on an appearance of contentment, of 
uncomplaining repose, when he has hard- 
ened his soul into granite. Winter does not 
chill him, summer does not sweat him, 
poverty does not pinch him, fortune does 
not e.xcite him, sickness does not weary him, 
losses do not fret him. 

A Heart of Stone. 

Yet what, after all, is this save the con- 
tentment of paralysis ? A man may be 
benumbed with cold until he is quiet — yes, 
and by as much as he is stiffened, by so 
much less is he a man. Your heart goes 
out as the stone comes in. Life vanishes as 
slumber and death creep on. This is not 
contentment. In truth, while all this is 
going on and there may be the most sullen 
outward unconcern, there may be disturb- 
ance, storm and night, within the soul. The 
ancients had it in a fable that Aeolus, god of 
the winds, kept them imprisoned in the 
caves of the earth ; they were in chains, yet 
the fury was all there, wrath ready to break 
loose. 

Mark the fact, too, that anything like 
forced submission to the inevitable is not 
contentment ; for such a submission would 



CONTENTMENT. 



341 



change the existing state of things if it could, 
and may in fact be the rankest discontent. 
People sometimes say, "We might as well 
take things as they come — we can't help 
ourselves." They are quiet, and thankful 
for the quietness. They have made up 
their minds that they will not have what they 
cannot get. They say, " Lord, I thank thee 
that I never fret, but I would fret if it would 
do any good." Just so I have known children 
that were quiet on Sunday — so long as they 
were tied up. This is the contentment of a 
caged bird ; open the cage and you will find 
the bird is more contented to go than to 
stay. 

Inward Dissatisfaction. 

There is not any large amount of virtue 
in giving up because you cannot help your- 
self. An unwilling contentment is not con- 
tentment at all, for the unwillingness takes 
away the real essence of the thing. For any 
thing short of a cheerful acquiescence in the 
existing state of things cannot be accounted 
contentment. To assent because compelled 
to — to give consent because there is no pos- 
sible way to evade it — to yield as a man 
submits to a pohceman's club — what virtue 
can there be in such submission to force, to 
iron bars and chains, to hydraulic pressure 
and grim compulsion ? There is a species 
of contentment which is only waiting its 
opportunity. There is a submission which 
would rebel if anything could be gained by 
it. It goes to the end of the chain, and then 
stops because the chain will not break. 

Contentment, then, is not a dead indiffer- 
ence, a stupid slumber, a peace born of 
stoicism or forced submission to the inevit- 
able. It is an active thing. It is a willing, 
cheerful, grateful satisfaction with present 
circumstances, with life as it is, with the 
existing state of things, believing that the 



existing condition of things is ordered or 
permitted in infinite wisdom and love, is the 
best, all things considered, and therefore does 
not call for murmuring or feverish complaint. 
It is a feeling which simply takes what kind 
Providence gives, be it much or little, and is 
satisfied. 

Domestic Peace. 

And here you will remember what it is 
important never to forget, that contentment 
is largely independent of external circum- 
stances or possessions. Perhaps it is found 
in the lowly places more frequently than in 
the high places of the earth. If Robby 
Burns' genius was ever inspired it was 
when he wrote, "The Cotter's Saturday 
Night" — that cottage scene "beneath the 
milk-white thorn that scents the evening, 
gale" — scene in humble life, the week's 
labor ended; the clustering children gath- 
ered at parental feet like young twigs under 
the outspread arms of the forest oak ; repose, 
that breath of heaven, falling upon the 
household; a devout calm which even 
palaces might covet, smoothing out the 
wrinkles of care. 

' ' O Scotia ! my dear, native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, 
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet con- 
tent ! " 

The fact is, a cottage is a palace, a Bal- 
moral, an Osborne; the little walk up to its 
doorstep is a Champs Elyisses ; its windows 
look out upon celestial fields; its straw mat- 
tress is soft as the down of angel's wing; its 
cup of water is the nectar of the gods ; its 
plain table, whose only luxury is a stale 
crust, is the banquet of kings; the open 
crannies do but let in an unearthly hght, 
when the poor old cottage is the home of a 
heart that is blest with sweet contentment. 



I 



342 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



It is not the beauty of the cage that makes 
the bird sing ; indeed I have known the bird 
to pine and die in a painted cage. 

It is possible to be satisfied with far less 
than many people imagine. If you are poor, 
try and be content, and reflect that you are 
free from the troubles and worries and fears 
that are almost sure to go with wealth. Do 
not fly to the absurdity of supposing that 
external things are all in all. It is the privi- 
lege of the millionaire to carry a happy 
heart; it is the privilege of Burns' humble 
cottager to have a heart no less happy. The 
mistake has always been in supposing that a 
man needs great possessions to help him to 
be contented. If his heart is right, he will 
sing his song at any time and anywhere. 

Unreasonable Envy. 
Now, one main cause of discontenc is 
found in that envy at once unreasonable and 
foolish, which leads you to compare yourself 
with others, and always to your own dis- 
paragement. You have enough to satisfy 
every lawful demand, but having made the 
painful discovery that some one else is 
apparently better off than you are, you are 
ready to repine at the allotments of Provi- 
dence. Everything in ordinary society goes 
by comparisons, and we are always placing 
ourselves in competition with others, looking 
at them with feelings of envy, thinking how 
much more fortunate they are than we, 
wishing for something they have which we 
have not and forgetting what we have by 
thinking of what we might have, or would 
like to have. Brain compares itself with 
brain, dress with dress, social standing with 
social standing, business with business ; and 
the one long, desperate, heart-burning strug- 
gle with many is to get up where others are 
and be accounted of equal consequence. It 
is not difficult to be content with the food if 



it is the best in the market ; it is easy to be 
content with the raiment if it is j ust a little 
finer than any one else wears. We consent 
to be contented and satisfied on condition 
that we have the best of everything. 

It is very much the spirit of the little girl, 
who, seeing another little girl in Sunday- 
school with a pretty sash on, prayed that 
night for such a sash as that, only just a 
yard longer. Ah, that extra yard — how the 
idea of it runs through all human society. 
There is something wanting. The income 
is less than another's ; the flowers in the 
next yard are finer ; the neighbor's children 
attract more attention ; the horse is not so 
showy as he might be ; there ought to be 
an improvement here and another there, so 
that you shall not be behind all others. 
Yes, something wanting ! Just another yard ! 

Certainly, if a man can choose his own 
portion, mark out his own life, have every- 
thing to suit him, make out an unlimited 
order and have it filled, why should he not 
be content ? But the correct idea is that we 
shall be satisfied when we have but little. 

Three Conditions. 

Says an old author : " I think I could be 
content on — say, three conditions : First, I 
should wish to select my food ; next, I 
should wish to have my pick of raiment, 
and then I should want the assurance that 
the supplies would never fail." In short, it 
would not be difficult to walk by sight ; bv^t 
as for walking by faith, living on cheap tare 
and wearing threadbare raiment — all this is 
another matter. 

Another, and one of the principal causes 
of discontent, is immoderate desires and 
expectations. It is not that we are in 
actual suffering and hardship, but having 
coveted and failed to gain, having sought 
and fruitlessly, having built a castle and 




343 



344 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



made it of so unsubstantial a thing as air, 
we have on hand a general assortment of un- 
realized hopes, and are unable to be recon- 
ciled to a condition so different from and so 
far short of what we had anticipated. You 
may be better off than a thousand others and 
be well aware that you are, yet if you have 
fallen back from your expectations and have 
failed to reach and gain the prize upon which 
you had set your ambition, ten chances to 
one if your life is not embittered and your 
heart dissatisfied. 

Blasted Hopes. 

And so it comes about that a large part of 
human unrest arises not from any actual loss, 
but from defeated desires, from wishes that 
have been blasted and have turned to ashes. 
We are overreaching ; we are too eager. We 
may be doing very well, but, with unhappy 
perversity, we insist upon making ourselves 
miserable because we are not doing as well 
as we thought we would. It is hard to be 
contented on bare food and raiment when 
you fondly thought you would have, in 
addition, a mansion that would defy compe- 
tition and a livery that would astonish the 
town. Well, if I must come down, I do not 
therefore need to give up ; if I cannot have 
what I desired, let me be satisfied with what 
I have. All this fever and complaint and 
cold grumbling is largely from hopes and 
avaricious expectations unrealized. 

Suffering there always is, but as matter of 
fact those who complain the loudest are not 
likely to be deprived of the necessaries of 
life; The trouble is they are not making as 
much money as they wished. They ex- 
pected a ship, three masts, full rigged, hull 
loaded to the brim and drawing twenty feet 
of water, and when it came, it was nothing 
but a shallow sloop, one mast flapping a 
tattered sail, a cargo shrunk to moderate 



dimensions, and they stood in disgust and 
said, " Of all things in the world, has it come 
to this?" 

Now, we can do with much less and be 
happy on it, than clamorous greed would 
have us think. Give a man all his avarice 
craves, and what have you ? An Atlas 
groaning and chafing under the attempt to 
carry a world. If the angels of heaven ever 
weep and the demons of hell ever laugh in 
derision, is it not at a man carrying immor- 
tality in his breast and with six feet of earth, 
doomed to darkness and dust, for his final 
possession, yet nettled, unnerved, crushed, 
whimpering like a baby because he cannot 
grasp a kingdom ? 

What Diogenes Said. 

Alexander conquered a world and Dio- 
genes lived on the refuse of the market — one 
an emperor and the other a tramp — and 
when Alexander asked Diogenes what he 
wanted, " Nothing," said the old philosopher, 
"except that you should stand out of my 
light." And Diogenes was the greater man. 

I am not saying \vc should be satisfied 
with nothing, and never aspire, but only that 
we can be content on very little, on what is 
a long way this side of fortune, and that we 
are not to whine like a .spoiled child because 
we cannot have every whim, every notion 
and demand of pride gratified. Yet so it 
often is. It is the want of that extra yard 
which keeps us whimpering when we ought 
to be praying. 

I knew a man that had health and riches, 
and several houses, all beautiful and ready 
furnished, and would often trouble himself 
and family to be removing from one house 
to another; and being asked by a friend 
why he removed so often from one house to 
another, replied : " It was to find content in 
some of them." But his friend, knowing 



CONTENTMENT. 



345 



his temper, toid him if he would find 
content in any of his houses, he must leave 
himself behind him ; for content will never 
dwell but in a meek and quiet soul. The 
inscription upon the tombstone of the man 
who had endeavored to mend a tolerable 
constitution by taking physic : "I was well J 
I wighed to be better; here I am," may 
generally be applied with great justness to 
the distress of disappointed avarice and 
ambition. 

Unhappy Faces. 

We sometimes go musing along the 
street to see how few people there are 
whose faces look as though any joy had 
come down and sung in their souls. ■ We 
can see lines of thought, and of care, and of 
fear — money lines, shrewd, grasping lines — 
but how few happy lines ! The rarest feel- 
ing that ever lights the human face is the 
contentment of a loving soul. Sit for an 
hour on the steps of the Exchange in Wall 
Street, and you will behold a drama which 
is better than a thousand theatres, for all the 
actors are real. There are a hundred suc- 
cessful men where there is one contented 
man. We can find a score of handsome 
faces where we can find one happy face. 

An eccentric wealthy gentleman stuck up 
a board in a field upon his estate, upon 
which was painted the following : " I will 
give this field to any man contented." He 
soon had an applicant. " Well, sir ; are you 
a contented man?" "Yes, sir; very." 
"Then what do you want of my field?" 
The apphcant did not stop to reply. 

It is one property which, they say, is 
required of those that seek the philosopher's 
stone, that they must not do it with any 
covetous desire to be rich, for otherwise 
they shall never find it. But most true it is, 
that whosoever would have this jewel of 



contentment, (which turns all into gold, yea, 
want into wealth,) must come with minds 
divested of all ambitious and covetous 
thoughts, else are they never likely to 
obtain it. 

The foundation of content must be laid in. 
a man's own mind; and he who has so littld 
knowledge of human nature as to seek hap- 
piness by changing anything but his own 
disposition, will waste his life in fruitless 
efforts, and multiply the griefs which he 
purposes to remove. No man can tell 
whether he is rich or poor by turning to his 
ledger. It is the heart that makes a man 
rich. He is rich or poor according to what 
he is, not according to what he has. 

Growth of Contentment. 

O years gone down into the past ; 

What pleasant memories come to me 
Of your untroubled days of peace, 

And hours of almost ecstasy ! 

Yet would I have no moon stand still, 
Where life's most pleasant valleys lie ; 

Nor wheel the planet of the day 

Back on his pathway through the sky. 

For though, when youthful pleasures died, 
My youth itself went with them, too ; 

To-day, aye ! even this very hour, 
Is the best hour I ever knew. 

Not that my Father gives to me 

More blessings than in days gone by, 

Dropping in my uplifted hands 
All things for which I blindly cry ; 

But that His plans and purposes 

Have grown to me less strange and dim ; 

And where I cannot understand, 
I trust the issues unto Him. 

And spite of many broken dreams. 

This have I truly learned to say — 
Prayers which I thought unanswered once 

Were answered in God's own best way. 

And though some hopes I cherished once. 

Perished untimely in their birth, 
Yet have I been beloved and blest 

Beyond the measure of my worth. 

Phcebe Carey. 



346 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



"I Can Laugh and Sing." 

Even I — but I can laugh and sing, 
Though fettered and confined — 

My mind I may to fortune bring, 
Not fortune to my mind. 

How seldom is our good enjoyed. 

Our ill how hardly borne, 
When all our fancies are employed. 

To kick against the thorn ! 

But, sure, ourselves aright to see 

True wisdom well may bear : 
Tis nobly great to dare to be 

No greater than we are. 

SamuEI, Weslbt, Jil 



A Common Blessing. 

Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, 

Not one will change his neighbor with himself. 

The learn'd is happy nature to explore. 

The fool is happy that he knows no more; 

The rich is happy in the plenty given. 

The poor contents him with the care of Heave 

See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing. 

The sot a hero, lunatic a king, 

The starving chemist in his golden views 

Supremely blest, the poet in his muse. 

Alexander Pope. 

I once met with a worthy citizen about 
«ixty years of age, who had just retired from 
business. He was in good health and high 
spirits, but he had been engaged in manu- 
facturing pursuits for something hke forty 
years, had earned a pecuniary independence, 
and to use his own language, was " satisfied." 
In brief, he had enough, more than sufficient 
to meet his ordinary wants, and he deemed 
it the poHcy of wisdom to retire while he 
could do so with safety, and be contented 
with a reasonable fortune. 

It would be well for many who are at this 
moment engaged in the active and perilous 
pursuits of commerce and trade, if they could 
profit by this example. The great multitude 
are not satisfied with a moderate fortune. 
They become avaricious to a certain extent, 



and hence they struggle for more, even after 
they have accumulated a sufficiency, and at 
the risk very often of health and strength, 
and even life itself. 

They are greedy and grasping, and if 
engaged in a profitable business, they are 
unwilling to abandon such a source of income- 
to other hands, either forgetful of the short 
tenure of human life, unmindful of their own 
increasing infirmities, or so absorbed in accu- 
mulation, that they have no time to think 
either of health here, or of destiny hereafter. 
They thus go on from day to day and from 
year to year, until at last they^are paralyzed 
by time or disease, and are hurried into 
another world, before, as they erroneously 
supposed, they had half finished their work 
in this. 

They are Self-Deceived, 

This is no fancy sketch. Men are apt to 
become so engrossed by the pursuit of 
wealth, the accumulation of property, or the 
acquisition of power, as to prove unmindful 
of all higher and more thoughtful considera- 
tions. They deceive themselves in many 
respects. They persuade themselves that 
they are young when they are old, that they 
are strong when they are weak, that they are 
advancing physically and mentally when in 
fact they are declining. 

How frequently does death surprise even 
the affluent, before they have made provision 
for the distribution of their property ? They 
cannot bring themselves to part with their 
earnings, even on paper, and thus postpone 
from time to time, the important duty of 
apportioning their estates by will, to heirs, 
friends, and benevolent institutions. Let any 
one mix and mingle in a thoughtful and in- 
quiring spirit in the marts of trade, and watch 
closely and narrowly, the figures and the 
features of the many who day by day devote 



CONTENTMENT. 



347 



all their energies to the various objects of 
enterprise, speculation, and of money-getting, 
and the discovery will then be made, that 
not a few of those who are straining and 
striving, are, in the ordinary course of nature, 
but a year or two distant from the grave. 

They cannot be contented. They are not, 
and never will be satisfied. They can never 
secure enough. More — a little more — is 
the great object of their toil, and as they pile 
up dollar upon dollar in their coffers, they 
inwardly promise themselves that they will 
soon be in a condition of positive independ- 
ence, when they will gracefully retire. But 
year follows year, and they are still a busy 
as ever, or their places are vacant, and they 
have departed to the land of spirits ! 

It is, indeed, more difficult to be contented 
than the hasty and inconsiderate are apt to 
imagine. With our means, too, our wants 
almost invariably increase, and thus, what 
might have suited at one period of life, will 
not answer at another. It should be remem- 
bered, moreover, that almost every business 
pursuit is chequered with light and shadow, 
with adversity and prosperity; and that, 
therefore, all who persist, after they have 
secured enough, encounter the risk of losing 
their dearly-prized earnings, and of thus 
overleaping the object of their ambition, 
and perilling the very security and independ- 
ence which they regard as so desirable. 

Hence, when age begins to show itself, 
when the physical man begins to fail, when 
the mind reels and faints under the ordinary 



efforts and excitements, it is the policy of 
prudence to be admonished, and if in a con- 
dition so to do, to retire quietly from the 
exciting arenas of commerce and of trade. 

Better thus to be contented and satisfied 
than to toil on under the double risk of 
losing fortune as well as health, of encoun- 
tering bankruptcy as well as shortening life. 
The human machine, it should be remem- 
bered, is certain to give out after a specified 
amount of effort, use, and exhaustion. This 
is seen every day, and almost every hour. 
Changes are constantly taking place around 
and about us. We meet, in our daily walks, 
friends, neighbors and acquaintances, bent, 
feeble and failing, who but a year or two 
ago were apparently firm, vigorous and 
active. But nature has assumed her right, 
and the result is distinct and palpable. 

And so it must be. sooner or later, with 
all of us. How much wiser then, how much 
more philosophic, to measure and judge our- 
selves according to the history of others, and 
when we are reminded that we have played 
out our part, that we are descending the hill 
of life, to prepare ourselves accordingly, and 
to relax somewhat of the wear and tear of 
body and mind that are so apt to weaken, 
paralyze and destroy. And if, moreover, we 
have accumulated enough — if we have pros- 
pered and attained an independent pecuniary 
position — why should we not be satisfied, 
and, in a spirit of gratitude to Providence, 
and of j ustice to our fellow man, retire and 
leave the field to others ? 



I 




HEROIC ENDURANCE. 



348 



CHAPTER XXII. 



ENDURANCE- 




OU will find much in your life to 
try you and show the kind 
of material of which you are 
made. There is a difference 
between steel and wood ; the 
wooden blade is bent and 
broken, the steel cuts through and does 
its work. One of the jokes of our Civil 
War was the deception practised on the 
army of the Potomac by the Confederates 
placing wooden guns on their earthworks at 
Manassas in Virginia. The guns were 
painted, and from a distance had all the 
appearance of being real. It was supposed 
that cannon of soHd iron were mounted and 
veady for action, and the Northern army 
was held back, and hesitated to make an 
advance. Wooden guns would have fired 
no solid balls. They would have exploded 
and would have been shattered into ten 
thousand fragments. It will make a vast 
difference whether you are a mere wooden 
man, or have some iron in your composition. 
Standing on the shore of the ocean, you 
see the wild, disordered billows rolling in. 
They are driven by the storm. They are 
hurled upon the beach and, with nothing to 
oppose them, they fling up the sand, rush 
into the shallows and sport themselves in 
glee. Walk along the shore until you come 
to that solid rock, towering aloft in rugged 
grandeur, defying the onslaught of waves 
and tempests, breasting the charges of the 
sea, and standing as calmly as it does in 
sunshine. In the clefts of that rock you 
can take shelter ; on its calm summit you 



could build your house, and ages from now 
it would stand as securely as it does to-day. 
Here is a picture of endurance. Here is an 
illustration of the granite which belongs to 
every true character. Here is a reminder of 
that force and resistance by which troubles 
are overcome, outward opposition is defeated, 
and you prove yourself to be the master of 
the situation. 

The Noblest Character. 

Do not be a weak, good-for-nothing reed 
that a child's foot might crush. Do not be 
a frail flower that every little blast beats 
down to the earth. Do not be a puny twig 
that is bent by every wind. Have some- 
thing of the oak in you — the sturdy, grand, 
brawny oak that storms do not bend. Weak 
people are not attractive ; they are not eflfi' 
cient or useful ; like the frail vine, they must 
have something stronger to cling to ; the}' 
must be pitied and babied ; they amount to 
very little, and it is only by courtesy that 
they may receive any consideration at all. 
There is a grand, heroic character that is 
superbly competent to take care of itself 
Do you possess it ? You are not asking 
favors, nor fawning at the feet of others, nor 
whimpering when things go wrong, nor ever- 
lastingly whining over trifling misfortunes, 
nor wishing you were dead. 

The Spartan children were not under 
tutors purchased or hired with money, nor 
were the parents at liberty to educate them 
as they pleased ; but as soon as they were 
seven years old Lycurgus ordered them tc 

349 



350 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



be enrolled in companies, where they were 
all kept under the same order and discipline, 
and had their exercises and recreations in 
common. He who showed the best con- 
duct and courage among them was made 
captain of^ the company. The i^est kept 
their eyes upon him, obeyed his orders and 
bore with patience the punishment he in- 
flicted; so that their whole education was 
an exercise of obedience. 

As for learning, they had just what was 
absolutely necessary. All the rest of their 
education was calculated to make them sub- 
ject to command, to endure labor, to fight 
and conquer. They added, therefore, to 
their discipline, as they advanced in age : 
cutting their hair very close, making them 
go barefoot, and play, for the most part, 
quite naked. At twelve years of age their 
under garment was taken away, and but one 
upper one a year allowed them. Hence 
they were necessarily dirty in their persons, 
and not indulged the great favor of baths 
and oils, except on some particular days of 
the year. They slept in companies, on beds 
made of the tops of reeds, which they 
gathered with their own hands, without 
knives, and brought from the banks of the 
Eurotas. In winter they were permitted to 
add a little thistle-down, as that seemed to 
have some warmth in it. They were taught 
the sternest endurance. 

All Evils Can Be Borne. 

How much the heart may bear, and yet not break ! 

How much the flesh may suffer, and not die ! 
I question much if any pain or ache 

Of soul or body brings our end more nigh. 
Death chooses his own time ; till that is worn, 
All evils may be borne. 

We shrink and shudder at the surgeon's knife ; 

Each nerve recoiling from the cruel steel, 
Whose edge seems searching for the quivering life ; 

Yet to our sense the bitter pangs reveal 



That still, although the trembling flesh be torn, 
This, also, can be borne. 

We see a sorrow rising in our way, 

And try to flee from the approaching ill ; 

We seek some small escape — we weep and pray — 
But when the blow falls, then our hearts are still. 

Not that the pain is of its sharpness shorn, 
But that it can be borne. 

We wind our life about another life — 
We hold it closer, dearer than our own — 

Anon it faints and falls in deadly strife, 

Leaving us stunned, and stricken, and alone ; 

But ah ! we do not die with those we mourn — 
This, also, can be borne. 

Behold, we livt; through all things — famine, thirst. 

Bereavement, pain, all grief and misery, 
All woe and sorrow ; life inflicts its worst 
On soul and body — but we cannot die. 
Though we be sick, and tired, and faint, and worn ; 
L,o ! all things can be borne. 

Elizabeth Akers Ai.lb;n. 

They were Taught at Hotne. 

Among the principal objects of the insti- 
tutions of Lycurgus, the education of the 
youth of the republic was that on which the 
legislator had bestowed the most particular 
attention. Children, after they had attained 
the age of seven, were no longer the charge 
of their parents, but of the State. Before 
that period they were taught at home the 
great lessons of obedience and frugality. 
Afterward, under public masters, they were 
taught to despise equally danger and pain. 
To shrink under the stroke of punishment 
was a sufficient reason for having that pun- 
ishment redoubled. Their very sports and 
amusements were such as are fitted to 
promote a strength of constitution and vigor 
and agility of body. 

The athletic exercises were prescribed 
alike for both sexes, as the bodily vigor of 
the mother is essential to that of her off- 
spring. To run, to swim, to wrestle, to 
hunt, were the constant exercise of the 



I 



352 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



youth. With regard to the culture of the 
mind, the Spartan discipline admitted none 
of those studies which tend to refine or 
embellish the understanding. But the duties 
if religion, the inviolable bond of a promise, 
he sacred obligation of an oath, the respect 
due to parents, the reverence for old age, the 
strictest obedience to the laws, and, above 
ill, the love of their country, the noble 
dame of patriotism, were early and assidu- 
ously inculcated. This rigid training made 
heroes of those who, otherwise, would have 
been weaklings, and they were shming 
examples of courage and endurance. 

There is an old proverb that says by 
"bravely enduring, an evil which cannot be 
avoided is overcome." An old author says, 
'The greater the difficulty, the more glory 
in surmounting it. Skilful pilots gain their 
reputation from storms and tempests." 
Louis Kossuth, the brightest mind and most 
glorious martyr of Hungary, says, "The 
palm-tree grows best beneath a ponderous 
weight, and even so the character of man. 
The petty pangs of small daily cares have 
often bent the character of men, but great 
•nisfortunes seldom." 

Willing Laborers, 

Some men are willing to throw themselves 
away in the pursuit of a great object. The 
early martyrs, the early discoverers, the early 
inventors, the pioneers of civilization — all 
vvho work for truth, for religion, for patriot- 
ism — are the forlorn hope of humanity. 
They live and labor and die without any 
hope of personal reward. It is enough for 
them to know their work, and by the exer- 
cise of moral power to do it. 

The man jf energy and genius is guided 
oy his apprehension of the widest and high- 
est tendencies. He may be thwarted and 
discouraged. Difficulties may surround 



him. But he is borne up by invincible 
courage; and if he dies, he leaves behind 
him a name which every man venerates. 
Death has fructified his life, and made it 
more fruitful to others. "When God per- 
mits His ministers to die for the gospel," 
said Brousson, "they preach louder from 
their graves than they did during their 
lives." "What we sow," said Jeremy Tay- 
lor, "in the minutes and spare portions of a 
few years grows up to crowns and sceptres 
in a happy and glorious eternity." 

Bearing all Things. 

Are not difficulty and suffering necessary 
to evoke the highest forms of character, 
energy and genius? Effort and endurance, 
striving and submitting, energy and patience, 
enter into every destiny. There is a virtue 
in passive endurance which is often greater 
than the glory of success. It bears, it suf- 
fers, it endures and still it hopes. It meets 
difficulties with a smile, and strives to stand 
erect beneath the heaviest burdens. Suffer- 
ing, patiently and enduringly borne, is one 
of the noblest attributes of man. There is 
something so noble in the quality as to lift 
it into the highest regions of heroism. It 
was a saying of Milton, "Who best can suf- 
fer, best can do." 

It is a mistake to suppose that there is 
ever an age when there is not a demand for 
the heroic virtue, or that the martyr-ages, 
or the ages of death struggle with tyranny, 
alone call for the practice of this virtue. 
To withstand the every-day course of a 
generation which has lost the sense of man's 
high destiny, and allowed pleasure to usurp 
the place of duty, may demand as much real 
heroism as to confront tyrant power, or to 
face the axe of the executioner. 

Even in war itself endurance is as high a 
virtue as courage; and now that war has 



ENDURANCE. 



353 



become scientific, endurance has taken the 
higher position. The well-discipHned soldier 
must stand erect in the place that has been 
assigned to him. "Be steady, men!" is the 
order. He braves danger without moving 
while bullets are dealing death around him. 
When he advances he has still to endure. 
He must not fire until the word of command 
is given. And then the charge comes. But 
it is not merely in action that endurance is 
highest. It is in retreat rendered necessary 
by defeat. Viewed in this light, the retreat 
of Xenophon's Ten Thousand outshines the 
conquests of Alexander; and the retreat of 
Sir John Moore to Corunna was as great as 
the victories of Wellington. 

The Brave Three Hundred. 

When Xerxes endeavored to conquer 
Greece, Leonidas, with three hundred men, 
marched to the Pass of Thermopylae, to 
resist the immense Persian army. A fierce 
combat ensued ; great numbers of the inva- 
ders were killed. Leonidas and the little 
band of heroes were destroyed, but Greece 
was saved. 

Not less brave than Leonidas was Judas 
Maccabeus, " the hammerer." With his for- 
lorn hope of eight hundred men he resisted 
the attack of twenty thousand Syrians, who 
were overrunning the Holy Land. Judas 
took his last stand at Eleasah. His follow- 
ers would fain have persuaded him to retreat. 
"God forbid," he answered, "that I should 
flee away before them. If our time be come, 
let us die manfully for our brethren ; let us 
not stain our honor." The battle was heavy 
and fierce ; Judas and his men fought vali- 
antly, and were killed to the last man, with 
their faces to the foe. They did not die in 
vain. The Jews took heart ; they beat back 
the invaders ; the Temple was rebuilt ; and 
Judea again became the most prosperous 
23 



country in the East. It lived, but its de- 
liverer was dead. 

The Romans also knew the value of hero- 
ism and devotion on behalf of their country. 
But let us come to more modern times. 
Little countries, of comparatively small 
populations, have contrived to maintain and 
preserve their liberties in spite of enormous 
diiificulties. It is not the size of a country, 
but the character of its people, that gives it 
sterling value. We find men constantly call- 
ing for liberty, but who do nothing to de- 
serve it. They remain inert, lazy, and selfish. 
There is a so-called patriotism that has no 
more dignity in it than the howling of 
wolves. True patriotism is of another sort 
It is based on honesty, truthfulness, gener- 
osity, self-sacrifice, and genuine love of free- 
dom. 

A Refuge for the Persecuted. 

Look, for instance, at the little Republic 
of Switzerland, which has been hemmed in 
by tyrannical governments for hundreds of 
years. But the people are brave and frugal, 
honest and self-helping. They would have 
no master, but governed themselves. They 
elected their representatives, as at Apenzell, 
by show of hands in the public market- 
places. They proclaimed liberty of con- 
science ; and Switzerland, like England and 
America, has always been the refuge of the 
persecuted for conscience sake. 

It was not without severe struggles that 
Switzerland conquered its independence 
The leaders of these brave men have ofter 
sacrificed themselves for the good of their 
country. Take, for instance, the example of 
Arnold von Winkelried. In 148 1 the Aus- 
trians invaded Switzerland, and a compara- 
tively small number of men determined to 
resist them. Near the little town of Sem- 
pach the Austrians were observed advancing 



854 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



in a solid compact body, presenting an 
unbroken line of spears. The Swiss met 
them, but their spears were shorter, and 
being much fewer in number, they were 
compelled to give way. 

Observing this, Arnold von Winkelried, 
seeing that all the efforts of the Swiss to 
break the ranks of their enemies had failed, 
exclaimed to his countrymen, " I will open a 
path to freedom ! Protect, dear comrades, 
my wife and children ! " He rushed for- 
ward, and, gathering in his arms as many 
spears as he could grasp, he buried them in 
his bosom. He fell, but a gap was made, 
and the Swiss rushed in and achieved an 
exceeding great victory. Arnold von Win- 
kelried died, but saved his country. The 
little mountain republic preserved its liberty. 
The battle took place on the 9th of July, 
and to this day the people of the country 
assemble to celebrate their deliverance from 
the Austrians, through the self-sacrifice of 
their leader. 

Courage of Women. 

But Swiss women can be as brave as 
Swiss men. Women pass through moral 
and physical danger with a courage that is 
equal to that of the bravest. They are pre- 
eminent in steady endurance ; and they are 
sometimes equal to men in a becoming valor 
to meet the peril which is sudden and sharp. 
The saying is, that the brave are the sons 
and daughters of the brave ; simply because 
they are brought up by the brave, and are 
infected by their example. 

In 1622, nearly two hundred years after 
the battle of Sempach, the Emperor of 
Austria desired to make himself master of 
the Orisons, in order to extinguish the Pro- 
testant religion and banish its ministers. His 
army first appeared in the valley of the 
Fratigau. The valley is shut in by high 



mountains. It is rich in pasturage, and is 
still famous for its large cattle. The men 
were high up on the hills, driving and watch- 
ing their herds. Only the women remained ; 
and so soon as they heard of the approach 
of the Austrians, between Klosters and 
Landquart, they took up their husbands' 
arms — pikes and scythes and pitchforks — 
and rushed out to meet them. 

Honors to the Brave. 

There are passes in Switzerland where a 
few well-armed men or women can beat back 
a thousand. With the help of stones show- 
ered down ftom the hills upon the enemy, 
the women prevailed. The Austrians were 
driven back. Of course, the men were as 
brave as the women. Not long after, the 
castle of Castel, opposite Fideris, was 
stormed and taken by the peasants, armed 
only with sticks ! On account of the gal- 
lant defence of the women, it continues to 
be a standing rule in the valley that the 
women go first to the Communion, and the 
men follow. 

Such are the heroic men and women 
whom the Swiss venerate — Tell, the daunt- 
less cross-bowman, and Winkelried, the 
spearman. Though the former is probably 
traditional, the latter is a man of history. 
The house in which he lived is still pointed 
out at Stanz, in Unterwalden ; his coat of 
mail is still in the Rathhaus ; and a statue is 
erected to him in the market-place, with the 
sheaf of spears in his arms. 

Some five centuries ago England suffered 
a grievous defeat in the North, which after- 
ward proved to be one of her greatest bless- 
ings. Scotland was poor, consisting prin- 
cipally of mountains and moors. It did not 
contain a fourth of the present population of 
London. The people were widely scattered. 
The country lay close to England, and was 



ENDURANCE. 



355 



always open to invasion. It was not, like 
Ireland, protected by a wide and deep sea- 
moat. Besides, it was not a united nation, 
nor were its people of the same race. On 
the north and west were the Celts or High- 
landers ; on the south and east were the 
descendants of the Saxons, Anghans and 
Northmen. The Highland clans warred 
against each other. They gave no help to 
the Lowlanders in their wars for freedom. 
Robert Bruce was nearly killed by the Mac- 
dougals in his flight through Lome. 

Wallace preceded Bruce. The Lowland 
country was conquered by Edward I. All 
its strong places were in the hands of the 
English. Wallace endeavored to rouse the 
spirit of patriotism throughout the western 
counties. Though a man of great personal 
prowess, he was not a great warrior. He 
was never able to raise a sufficient number 
of men to fight a pitched battle. He was 
defeated at Falkirk. Indeed, he was a man 
who failed. He was the forlorn hope of 
Scotland at that time. 

A Martyr to Liberty. 

Yet his faith in the future of his country 
nourished the national spirit more than even 
the victories of his successor, Robert Bruce. 
At last Wallace was betrayed, and delivered 
over to the English. He was taken to 
London, and, on the eve of St. Bartholomew, 
1305, he was dragged on a sledge from the 
Tower to Smithfield, where he was hanged, 
and quartered while still living. Thus died 
the martyr for freedom. He did not live in 
vain. He inspired his country with the love 
of liberty ; and the time came when they 
could follow his example with success. 

Robert Bruce was the descendant of a 
Norman. He was half an EngHshman and 
half a Scotchman ; and, by his mother's 
side, he was a claimant to the Scottish crown. 



After many daring adventures and rude 
perils — borne up throughout by strong per- 
severing conscience and an ardent love of 
liberty — Bruce was able to get together a 
patriotic army to meet the English at Ban- 
nockburn in 13 14. Before the battle began 
the Scottish army knelt down in prayer. 
Edward II. was looking on. He turned to 
his favorite knight and said, "Argentine, the 
rebels yield ! They beg for mercy ! " " They 
do, my liege," was the reply ; "but net from 
you." The battle ended, not only in a vic- 
tory, but in a rout. 

Endurance for Principle. 
The English ambassadors at the Papal 
Court induced John XXII. to excommuni- 
cate Robert Bruce, and to lay his kingdom 
under an ecclesiastical ban. The interdict 
was met by a heroic Parliament held at 
Arbroath in 1320. Eight earls and twenty- 
one nobles appended their names to a letter 
from the parliament to the Pope, which, for 
the principle it asserted, was worth any docu- 
ment in European history. 

It asked the Pope to require the English 
king to respect the independence of Scotland, 
and to mind his own affairs. "So long as a 
hundred of us are left alive," say the signa- 
tories, "we will never in any degree be sub- 
jected to the English. It is not for glory, 
riches, or honors that we fight, but for 
liberty alone, which no good man loses but 
with his life." 

Although numerous wars followed, and 
although attempts were made by the stronger 
nation to force new forms of religion upon the 
weaker nation, the result was always the 
same. The history of Scotland has been a 
perpetual protest against despotism. Its 
lesson is — first, the power of individualism ; 
and latterly, that of the rights of conscience. 

There was another great defeat which 



356 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



England sustained about the same time, 
which, though regarded as deplorable, yet 
turned out to be as great a blessing as that 
of Bannockburn. It was at the siege of 
Orleans, which, Dr. Arnold says, was " one 
of the turning-points in the history of 
nations." The following are Dr. Arnold's 
words : 

"The siege of Orleans is one of the turn- 
ing-points in the history of nations. Had 
the English dominion in France been estab- 
lished, no man can tell what might have 
been the consequence to England, which 
would probably have become an appendage 
to France. So little does the prosperity of 
the people depend upon success in war, that 
two of the greatest defeats we ever had have 
been two of our greatest blessings — Orleans 
and Bannockburn. It is curious, too, that in 
Edward II. 's reign the victory over the Irish 
at Athunree proved our curse, as our defeat 
by the Scots turned out a blessing. Had 
the Irish remained independent, they might 
afterward have been united to us, as Scot- 
land was ; and had Scotland been reduced 
to subjection, it would have been another 
curse to us like Ireland." 

The Famous Peasant Girl. 
The English were overrunning France. 
They had won many battles ; they had 
entered Paris, and were besieging Orleans. 
France was in a dismal condition. The 
principal nobles abandoned the king (Charles 
VII.), and each endeavored to set up a petty 
sovereignty of his own. The towns gave 
themselves up without making any resist- 
ance. The taxes were levied by force, and 
even the king had scarcely the means to live 
upon, still less to maintain his army. The 
people lost faith in both king and nobles, 
and longed that God might work some 
means of deliverance for their country. 



Strange ! how small a circumstance may 
alter the destiny of a nation. It was a 
woman — a country girl, who spinned and 
knitted at home, and looked after the cattle 
out of doors — who came to the help of 
France. Joan of Arc was born at the village 
of Domremy, in Lorraine. She was simple, 
virtuous, and religious. Being of a nervous 
temperament, in her exalted state she dreamed 
dreams, and heard solemn words spoken to 
her. She was told to " go to the help of the 
King of France," and was assurred " that 
she would restore his kingdom to him." 

Thought She Was Mad. 

Captain Baudricourt, who was informed of 
her wishes, thought at first that she was mad. 
At last he was so touched by her earnestness 
that he offered to furnish her with an equip- 
ment of armed men, and to conduct her to 
the king. She travelled through the 150 
miles of country occupied by the English ; 
and at length reached the king and court at 
Chin on in safety. 

The king was only too glad to have any 
means of help, no matter from what quarter 
it came. The bishops and priests thought 
her a witch and inspired by the devil. Never- 
theless, the king sent her on to Orleans, and 
she reached the besieged city. The English 
were already beginning to be distressed. 
They had sat down before Orleans during 
the winter, and their forces were fast melting 
away. 

After the death of the Earl of Salisbury, 
many of the men-atarms whom he had 
enlisted separated from the camp. The 
Burgundians, who were in league with the 
English, were recalled by their duke. Only 
about 2000 or 3000 English troops remained, 
and these were distributed among a dozen 
bastilles, between which there was no con- 
nection. "On reading," says Michelet, 




JOAX OF ARC BEFORE KIXG CHARLES VII. 



357 



358 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



•'the formidable list of captains who threw 
themselves into the city with their forces, 
the deliverance of Orleans does not seem so 
miraculous after all." 

Joan of Arc headed the attack upon the 
English in the bastilles. They were driven 
out, though in storming the last (the Toiir- 
nelles) the Maid was wounded. But she 
was not satisfied with raising the siege of 
Orleans. The English must be driven out 
of the country. The army, under her direc- 
tion, followed the enemy to Patay, where 
they were again defeated. Then followed 
the crowning of Charles VII. at Rheims, as 
she had predicted. "The originality of Joan 
of Arc," says Michelet, "the secret of her 
success, was not her courage or her visions, 
but her good sense. By taking Charles VII. 
straight to Rheims, and having him crowned, 
she gained over the English the decision of 
his coronation." 

Made a Prisoner. 

She had done and finished what she had 
intended to do; she now desired to return 
home to her parents, and to her flocks and 
herds. But the king refused his consent. 
He had seen how Joan had brought back 
success to the ranks of the French army. 
He therefore desired her presence among 
the soldiers. From this time she had not 
the same confidence in herself; she felt 
irresolute and restless, and though she con- 
tinued fighting, it was without any decisive 
results. 

The English and Burgundians, having 
again coalesced, laid siege to Compiegne, 
on the river Oise. The citizens had already 
declared themselves in favor of Charles VII., 
and Joan at once threw herself into the 
place. On the same day she headed a 
sortie, and had nearly surprised the besiegers, 
but she was driven back to the city gates. 



where she was surrounded by the French 
(Burgundians), dragged from her horse, and 
made prisoner. She was given by her coun- 
trymen to the English, who handed her 
over to the Inquisition at Rouen to be 
judged. The Vicar presided, and was 
assisted by the Bishop of Beauvais, the 
Bishop of Lisieux, and other French priests. 
Estevet, one of the Canons of Beauvais, was 
appointed the promoter of the prosecution. 

Condemned to be Burned Alive. 

The sovereign, Charles VII, who owed 
his throne to the bravery of the young 
enthusiast, took no steps whatever for her 
deliverance. The Sorbonne, the great theo- 
logical tribunal, was appealed to, and decided 
that "this girl was wholly the devil's," and 
ought to be treated accordingly. The French 
Burgundians did not protest against the 
hideous punishment she was about to re- 
ceive. The usual process in those days was 
to burn all witches and sorcerers possessed 
by the devil ; and Joan of Arc was accord- 
ingly condemned to be burned alive. Her 
martyrdom took place at Rouen, on the site 
now known as the Place de la Pucelle, not 
far from the Quai de Havre, where a statue 
has been erected to her memory. 

" There have been martyrs," says Michelet; 
" history shows us numberless ones, more or 
less pure, more or less glorious. Pride has 
had its martyrs, so have hate and the spirit 
of controversy. No age has been without 
martyrs militant, who, no doubt, died with a 
good grace when they could no longer kill. 

" Such fancies are irrelevant to our subject. 
The sainted girl is not of them; she had a 
sign of her own — goodness, charity, sweet- 
ness of soul. She had the sweetness of the 
ancient martyrs, but with a difference. The 
first Christians remained pure only by shun- 
ning action, by sparing themselves the strug- 



ENDURANCE. 



359 



gles and trials of the world. Joan was gentle 
in the roughest struggle ; good among the 
bad; pacific in war itself; she bore into war 
the Spirit of God." 

The French people have not forgotten 
Joan of Arc. Many statues have been 
erected to her memory. She has been an 
object of veneration to generation after gener- 
ation of French soldiers. When a regiment 
marches through Domremy the soldiers 
always halt and present arms in honor of 
her birthplace. It is touching to hear of 
the custom having survived so long, and the 
memory of the maiden heroine being still 
kept green by the country she served so 
faithfully. 

Corruption and Frivolity. 

Let us go back to some of the great hero- 
martyrs of Italy, to Arnold of Brescia, Dante 
and Savonarola. Shortly after the fall of the 
Roman Empire the baser influences of 
human nature again obtained the ascend- 
ency. The Church could not prevail against 
them. Indeed, the Church followed them. 
St. Bernard of Clairvaux stigmatized the 
vices of the Romans in these biting words : 
" Who is ignorant of their vanity and arro- 
gance? A nation nursed in sedition, un- 
tractable and scorning to obey unless they 
are too feeble to resist. Dexterous in mis- 
chief, they have never learned the science of 
doing good. Adulation and calumny, per- 
fidy and treason, are the familiar acts of their 
policy." 

Corruption and frivolity in high places 
never fail to exert a pernicious influence on 
the condition of society. They extend to 
the lower classes, when all become alike 
profligate. Italy was abandoned to luxury 
and frivolity by the higher classes, while 
poverty, misery and vice pervaded the lower. 
The churchmen were no better than the 



multitude. Thus a once brave and vigorous 
people were on the verge of moral destruc- 
tion. 

In the twelfth century Arnold of Brescia 
sounded the trumpet of Italian hberty. His 
position in the Church was of the lowest 
rank. He was an impassioned and eloquent 
preacher. He preached purity, love, right- 
eousness. He also preached liberty. This 
was the most dangerous of all his teachings. 
Yet the people revered him as a patriot. 
There were not wanting enemies to report 
his sayings to the authorities, who con- 
demned his views, and the magistrates of 
Brescia proceeded to execute his sentence. 
But Arnold, forewarned, fled over the Alps 
into Switzerland, where he found refuge at 
Zurich, the first of the Swiss Cantons. 

A New Reformer Appears. 

Undismayed by fear, he crossed the Alps 
again, proceeded to Rome, and there erected 
his standard. He was protected by the 
nobles and the people, and for ten years his 
eloquence thundered over the Seven Hills. 
He exhorted the Romans to assert the in- 
alienable rights of men and Christians and 
to restore the laws and magistrature of the 
republic. 

His rule continued during the lives of twa 
Popes, but on the accession of Adrian IV. ^ 
the only Englishman who ever ascended the 
throne of St. Peter, Arnold was opposed 
with vigor and power, was apprehended and 
sentenced to death. 

Italy went on in its career of frivolity, 
dissipation and vice. State warred against 
state, and Guelphs and Ghibellines wasted 
the country. In the thirteenth century 
Dante appeared, and again sounded the 
note of liberty. He believed in eternal 
justice. In virtue of the truth and love 
which dwelt in his own soul, he contrasted 



560 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



the life of Italy with the higher and nobler 
tendencies of humanity. The mad Italian 
world trembled in the light of time; between 
heaven above and hell beneath. He dis- 
cerned eternal justice under the wild striv- 
ings of men. His whole soul rose to the 
height of the great argument, and he poured 
forth, in unequalled song, his vindication of 
the ways of God to man. 

A Guiding Star. 

During the. long centuries of Italian de- 
gradation and misery his burning words 
were as a watch-fire and a beacon to the 
true and faithful of his country. He was 
the herald of his nation's liberty — braving 
persecution, exile and death for the love of 
it. In his "De Monarchia" he advocated, 
like Arnold of Brescia, the separation of the 
spiritual from the civil power. His "De 
Monarchia" was pubHcly burned at Bologna. 

He was always the most national of the 
Italian poets, the most loved, the most read. 
He was banished from Florence in 1301. 
His house was given up to plunder, and he 
was sentenced in his absence to be burned 
alive. During his banishment he wrote 
some of his noblest works. Men thought 
of him, reverenced him and loved him. It 
was desired that his sentence of banishment 
should be repealed, and that he should 
return to Florence. 

It was an ancient custom to pardon cer- 
tain criminals in Florence on the festival of 
St. John — the apostle who "loved much." 
It was communicated to Dante that he 
would receive such a pardon on condition 
of his presenting himself as a criminal. 
When the proposal was made to him he 
exclaimed, "What! is this the glorious 
revocation of an unjust sentence, by which 
Dante Alighieri is to be recalled to his 
country after suffering about three lustres 



of exile? Is this what patriotism is worth? 
Is this the recompense of my continued 
labor and study? If by this way only can 
I return to Florence, then Florence shall 
never again be entered by me. And what 
then? Shall I not see the sun and the stars 
wherever I may be, and ponder the sweet 
truth somewhere under heaven, without first 
giving myself up, naked in glory, and almost 
in ignominy, to the Florentine people? 
Bread has not yet failed me. No! no! I 
shall not return!" 

Heroic Fortitude. 

Dante accordingly refused the pardon 
thus offered. He remained in banishment 
for twenty years, and died at Ravenna in 
1321. 

History is full of incidents that illustrate 
the great principle of fortitude and endurance. 
Here is one narrated by Plutarch: 

Mucius entered into the camp of Porsena, 
a powerful Italian prince, to assassinate him. 
Not knowing which man was Porsena, he 
killed the wrong man. Upon this he was 
seized and examined. Meantime, as there 
happened to be a portable altar there, with 
fire upon it, where the king was about to 
offer sacrifice, Mucius thrust his right hand 
into it; and as the flesh was burning, he 
kept looking upon Porsena with a firm and 
menacing aspect, until the king, astonished 
at his fortitude, returned him his sword with 
his own hand. 

He received it with his left hand, from 
whence we are told he had the surname of 
Sccevola, which signifies left-handed ; and 
thus addressed himself to Porsena: "Your 
threatenings I regarded not, but am con- 
quered by your generosity, and out of grati- 
tude will declare to you what no force should 
have wrested from me. There are three 
hundred Romans that have taken the same 



ENDURANCE. 



361 



resolution with mine, who now walk about 
your camp, watching their opportunity. It 
was my lot to make the first attempt, and I 
am not sorry that my sword was directed by 
fortune against another, instead of a man of 
so much honor, who, as such, should rather 
be a friend than an enemy to the Romans." 

Porsena believed this account, and was 
more inclined to hearken to terms, not so 
much in my opinion through fear of three 
hundred assassins, as admiration of the 
dignity of the Roman valor. 

It is recorded by our own historian, Ban- 
croft, that Hugh Peters, once minister of 
Salem, Massachusetts, was condemned as a 
regicide, being an enemy of Charles I. 

He was allowed no council. At the gal- 
lows he was compelled to wait while the 
body of his friend Cooke, who had just been 
hanged, was cut down and quartered before 
his eyes. "How like you this?" cried the 
executioner, rubbing his bloody hands. "I 
thank God," replied the martyr, "I am not 
terrified at it; you may do your worst." 
To his friends he said, "Weep not for me; 
my heart is full of comfort." 

Story of Abraham Holmes. 

Macaulay relates in his History of Eng- 
land that Abraham Holmes, a retired officer 
of the Parliamentary army, and one of those 
zealots who would own no king but King 
Jesus, had been taken at Sedgemoor. His 
arm had been frightfully mangled and shat- 
tered in the battle ; and, as no surgeon was 
at hand, the stout old soldier amputated it 
himself. He was carried up to London and 
examined by the king in council, but would 
make no submission. " I am an aged man," 
he said, "and what remains to me of life is 
not worth a falsehood or a baseness. I have 
always been a Republican, and I am so still." 

He was sent back to the west and hanged. 



The people remarked with awe and wonder 
that the beasts which were to drag him to 
the gallows became restive and went back. 
Holmes himself doubted not that the Angel 
of the Lord, as in the old time, stood in the 
way, sword in hand, invisible to human eyes, 
but visible to the inferior animals. "Stop, 
gentlemen," he cried, " let me go on foot. 
There is more in this than you think. 
Remember how the ass saw Him whom the 
prophet could not see." He walked man- 
fully to the gallows. 

Cowards are Scorned. 

The resolute qualities of human character 
have always been admired ; the opposite 
have met with derision and contempt. Says 
Bancroft : The Romans in their triumphal 
processions exhibited captives to the gaze of 
the Roman people; the Indian conqueror 
compels them to run the gauntlet, through 
the women and children of his tribe. To 
inflict blows that cannot be returned, is proof 
of full success and the entire humiliation 
of the enemy ; moreover, it is an experiment 
of courage and patience. Those who show 
fortitude are applauded ; the coward becomes 
an object of scorn. 

Says Tyler, speaking of the Indians, when 
one party prevailed, it was a rule to pursue 
their success by an undistinguishing carnage, 
as long as the enemy gave the smallest 
resistance. When that was over, they bound 
and carried off the prisoners, who were re- 
served for the most cruel and tormenting 
death. This the captives themselves knew, 
and were prepared for. They had, however, 
one chance of life ; for, on returning to their 
village, the victors made offer to each family 
of a captive for every relation they had lost 
in the war. This offer they might either 
accept or reject. If accepted, fhe captive 
become a member of the family , ii rejected, 



362 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



he was doomed to die under the most excru- 
ciating tortures. 

In these executions the women would bear 
their part, and seem actuated by the spirit of 
furies. What is most remarkable is the for- 
titude with which these unhappy wretches 
submitted to their fate. There was a contest 
between them and their tormentors which 
should exceed, these in inflicting, or the 
others in enduring the greatest exacerbations 
of pain. It is even said that by insults they 
endeavored to provoke their executioners 
and stimulate their fury by telling them of 
the cruelties they had themselves inflicted on 
their countrymen. 

We are not without our occasions for 
firmness and resolute endurance, although 
we may never be called, as it is to be hoped 
we never will be called, to mingle in " war's 
dread alarms." 

Bear it Bravely. 

O, never from thy tempted heart 
Let thine integrity depart ! 
When disappointment fills the cup, 
Undaunted, nobly drink it up ; 
Truth will prevail, and justice show 
Her tardy honors, sure though slow. 
Bear on — bear bravely on ! 

Bear on ! Our life is not a dream, 
Though often such its mazes seem ; 
We were not born for lives of ease. 
Ourselves alone to aid and please. 
To each a daily task is given, 
A labor which shall fit for heaven ; 
When duty calls, let love grow warm ; 
Amid the sunshine and the storm. 
With faith life's trials boldly breast. 
And come a conqueror to thy rest. 
Bear on — bear bravely on ! 

We have another thrilling incident related 
by Macaulay : Margaret Maclachlan and 
Margaret Wilson, the former an aged widow, 
the latter a maiden of eighteen, suffered 
death for their religion in Wigtonshire. They 



were offered their lives if they would con- 
sent to abjure the cause of the insurgent 
Covenanters, and to attend the Episcopal 
worship. They refused, and they were sen- 
tenced to be drowned. They were carried 
to a spot which the Solway overflows twice 
a day, and fastened to stakes fixed in the 
sand, between high and low water mark. 
The elder sufferer was placed near to the 
advancing flood, in the hope that her last 
agonies might terrify the younger into sub- 
mission. 

The sight was dreadful ; but the courage 
of the survivor was sustained by an enthu- 
siasm as lofty as any that is recorded in 
martyrology. She saw the sea draw nearer 
and nearer, but gave no sign of alarm. She 
prayed and sang verses of psalms till tht 
waves choked her voice. When she had 
tasted the bitterness of death, she was, by a 
cruel mercy, unbound and restored to life. 
When she came to herself pitying friends 
and neighbors implored her to yield. " Dear 
Margaret, only say God save the king ! " 
The poor girl, true to her stern theology, 
gasped out : " May God save him if it be 
God's will ! " 

Her friends crowded round the presiding 
officer. " She has said it ; indeed, sir, she 
has said it." " Will she take the abjura- 
tion ? " he demanded. " Never ! " she ex- 
claimed. "I am Christ's; let me go!" 
And the waters closed over her for the last 
time. 

Stand by the Ship. 
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss. 
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. 
What though the mast be now blown overboard. 
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost. 
And half our sailors swallowed in the flood ? 
Yet lives our Pilot still : is it meet that he 
Should leave the helm, and like a fearful lad, 
With tearful eyes add water to the sea, 
And give more strength to that which hath too 
much ; 



ENDURANCE. 



363 



Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on a rock, 
Which industry and courage might have saved ? 
Wii,i,iAM Shakespeare. 

Endurance is also to be shown in bearing 
the ills and misfortunes that are common to 
all alike. General Daniel Morgan, of Re- 
volutionary fame, said : As to the fighting 
part of the matter, the men of all nations 
are pretty much alike ; they fight as much 
as they find necessary, and no more. But, 
sir, for the grand essential in the composi- 
tion of the good soldier, give me the Dutch- 
man — he starves well. 

Enduring Trials. 

Existence may be borne, and the deep root 
Of life and sufferance make its firm abode 
In base and desolate bosoms : mute 
The camel labors with the heaviest load. 
And the wolf dies in silence : not bestowed 
In vain should such example be ; if they, 
Things of ignoble or of savage mood, 
Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay 
May temper it to bear — it is but for a day. 

Lord Byron. 

We are apt to imagine that warriors and 
heroes are the ones who afford the finest 
examples of endurance. We celebrate in 
glowing eulogy the " Father of his country " 
and his little army, passing that long and 
terrible winter at Valley Forge, shivering in 
the snow, clothed only in thin rags, living on 
the plainest fare, yet never once giving up 
their hope in the success of the Revolution. 

Without detracting from the fame of heroes, 
the glory of patriots, the dazzling crown of 
martyrs, be assured that you can step into 
the humblest walks of life and there find 
exhibitions of endurance that form as grand 
a theme for epics as any of which Homer 
sang. Many a mother, bending over the 
cradle of her child, watching the little suf- 
ferer all night, pouring upon it the treasures 
of her heart, an unsleeping mother, gentle, 
patient, thoughtful, self-sacrificing, deserves I 



more to have a monument of bronze or 
marble than many whose fame fills the world 
and whose achievements are applauded. 

It is in the home, in the kitchen, in the 
garret, by the bedside — it is in the dull 
routine of daily life that the brightest ex- 
amples of patient endurance are found. 
Histories do not speak of them, news- 
papers do not blow trumpets for them, 
society in full dress does not invite them to 
receptions, yet these great ones of the earth, 
God's noblest and best, would leave the 
world very poor if they were not with us. 
Thus all common ideas of our finest virtues 
have to be reversed when we come to study 
the deep things of life. 

The Wife of a Ship Captain. 
Edward Everett, the famous Boston orator, 
delivered in many places his celebrated ora- 
tion on Washington. It was a masterly 
production, and one of the most captivating 
parts of it narrated the story of a humble 
woman, the wife of a ship captain. She was 
with him on the vessel that was sailing from 
New York to San Francisco. The crew 
was made up of men of the roughest class. 
The captain fell sick, died, and was buried 
at sea. Immediately there were signs of 
mutiny. This woman, discovering that the 
crew was about to seize the ship, rose to the 
very height of courage, armed herself, 
stepped on deck, took command of the 
vessel and steered it safe to port. Mr. 
Everett offered this as a bright example of 
heroism. It was such and merited all the 
glowing periods in which it was told, but are 
there not examples in ten thousand homes 
throughout our land no less worthy of 
praise? They who suffer, they who pine 
yet wait, they who bear all things and 
endure — for these let the world weave its 
brightest chaplets. 




I REGRET THAT I CANNOT TELL HIM I HAVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING." Napoleon. 

364 



CHAPXKR XXIII. 
FORGIVENESS. 




'APOLEON saw among the slain 
at the battle of Wagram a 
Colonel who had given him 
cause for displeasure. He 
stopped and gazed for a mo- 
ment at his sadly mutilated 
body stretched upon the gory 
field, and said with emotions which every 
generous heart will understand : "I regret 
not having been able to speak to him before 
the battle, in order to tell him that I had 
long ago forgotten everything." 

You will notice that Napoleon said he had 
"forgotten." There are people who. say 
they have forgiven, but they have not for- 
gotten. This really means that the forgive- 
ness is not complete; something is wanting 
in it, it is defective, it is not free and generous, 
it is lame and weak. In so far as the injury 
is not forgotten and entirely overlooked, it is 
not forgiven and there is still resentment in 
your breast. 

You are not required to 'forget the injury 
and blot it entirely from your memory. 
You are compelled to recall it to mind, just 
as you do any other event in your life. The 
bitter words, the sudden break of confidence, 
Ihe terrible thrust that rankled in your heart, 
the dark hour in which you felt yourself to 
be so grievously wronged, all this is lodged 
in memory and sometimes comes back to 
you in spite of yourself Napoleon remem- 
bered his former displeasure toward his 
gallant officer, now struck by death in the 
storm of battle, but he meant to say that he 
had so fully forgiven and overlooked the 



offence that it was now as if that offence had 
never been committed. 

Let us be just to this great man and give 
him credit for all the good that was in him. 
The world has glorified him as a military 
genius. His march was the march of a 
conqueror. As was said of Luther, so can 
it be said of him, that his very " words were 
half-battles." Europe cringed before him, 
and trembled when he gave his commands. 
The carnage, the myriads of dead, the blaz- 
ing torch of war, the slaughter and destruc- 
tion, have largely been ignored in admiration 
for his splendid generalship, his vaulting 
ambition, his iron will, his dazzling success. 
Even now everything that pertains to Napo- 
leon has a mystic charm. Let his picture be 
placed in a shop window and, familiar as it is, 
crowds will stand before it, as if believing 
him to have been a kind of human god. 
We too often lose sight of the dark side of 
this man's character and career. The more 
sober, honest judgment of history must 
inevitably be, that the world would have 
been better and happier if he had never lived. 

An Admirable Trait. 

It is, therefore, a relief to discover any 
noble traits in this great leader and com- 
mander . Stained as he was with blood, we 
will yet give him credit for that nobility of 
soul which shone so brilliantly in his readi- 
ness to forgive an injury. It is but simple 
truth to say that forgiveness is a trait that 
belongs to every noble character. How 
many people there are who are so selfish, so 

365 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



base, so narrow-minded, so fiendish, that the 
first impulse of a forgiving spirit never once 
shows itself in their treatment of others. 
They take their fancied wrong, hug it to 
their hearts, pet and fondle it, remember it 
constantly, make it a dear favorite, nurse it 
as faithfully as a mother would her babe, 
and appear to take an exquisite pleasure in 
cherishing resentment. 

Always Getting Offended. 

Such people are always ready to take 
offence. Their toes are everlastingly get- 
ting stepped on. And if not stepped on, 
they easily imagine that they are. They 
persuade themselves that they are the vic- 
tims of neglect, that they are slighted and 
set aside, that they are angels — and there are 
so few people who appreciate angels — that 
others have mean designs toward them, that 
damaging things have been said against 
their character and reputation. They are 
not going to 'overlook the dreadful injury 
that has been inflicted upon them. All 
attempts to appease them, to explain matters, 
to put them in a pleasant mood, utterly fail. 
If some kind soul is willing to admit that the 
injury is real, and is generous enough to ask 
forgiveness, they are unequal to the generous 
spirit that overlooks and forgets the wrong 
which has perhaps inadvertently been com- 
mitted. 

Forgiveness should be exercised for your 
own peace of mind, if for no other reason. 
While it injures one's reputation to be harsh 
and unforgiving, a far greater injury still is 
inflicted upon the inward life, for with the 
spirit of revenge and malice rankling in the 
breast, there can be no such thing as happi- 
ness. 

Anger and revenge are uneasy passions ; 
hence it appears that the command of loving 
our enemies, which has been thought r. hard 



saying and impossible to be fulfilled, is really 
no more, when resolved into its first princi- 
ples, than bidding us to be at peace with 
ourselves, which we cannot be so long as we 
continue at enmity with others. 

The heathen themselves saw the reasona- 
bleness of the spirit which we are now in- 
culcating and approved of it. It is said 
concerning Juhus Caesar, that upon any pro- 
vocation he would repeat the Roman alpha- 
bet before he would suffer himself to speak, 
that he might be more just and calm in his 
resentments, and also that he could forget 
nothing but wrongs, and remember nothing 
but benefits. 

Sayings of the Wise. 

"It becomes a man," says the Emperor 
Antoninus, "to love even those that offend 
him." "A man hurts himself," says Epic- 
tetus^ "by injuring me; and what then? 
Shall I therefore hurt myself by injuring 
him?" "In benefits," says Seneca, "it is a 
disgrace to be outdone; in injuries, to get 
the better." Another heathen, when he was 
angry with one by him, said, " I would beat 
thee, but I am angry." 

Philip, king of Macedon, discovered great 
moderation, even when spoken to in shock- 
ing and injurious terms. At the close of an 
audience which he gave to some Athenian 
ambassadors who were come to complain of 
some act of hostility, he asked whether he 
could do them any service. "The greatest 
service thou couldst do us," said Demo- 
chares, "will be to hang thyself" Philip, 
though he perceived all the persons present 
were highly offended at these words, made 
the following answer, with the utmost calm- 
ness of temper: "Go; tell your superiors 
that those who dare make use of such inso- 
lent language are more haughty and less 
peaceably inclined than those who can for- 



FORGIVENESS. 



367 



give them." It was a noble reply from one 
who had great provocation for anger. 

Mr. Burkitt observes in his journal, that 
some persons would never have had a par- 
ticular share in his prayers but for the in- 
juries they had done him. This reminds 
me of an exemplary passage concerning 
Amos Lawrence's once going, with some of 
his sons, by the house of a gentleman that 
had been injurious to him. He gave a 
charge to his sons to this purpose: "That 
they should never think or speak amiss of 
that gentleman for the sake of anything he 
had done against him ; but, whenever they 
went by his house, should hft up their hearts 
in prayer to God for him and his family." 
This good man had learned to practice that 
admirable precept of our Lord, "Pray for 
them which despitefully use you and perse- 
cute you." 

A Soft Answer. 

Of Mr. John Henderson it was observed, 
that the oldest of his friends never beheld 
him otherwise than calm and collected; it 
was a state of mind he retained under all 
circumstances. During his residence at 
Oxford, a student of a neighboring college, 
proud of his logical acquirements, was solic- 
itous of a private disputation with the re- 
nowned Henderson; some mutual friends 
introduced him, and, having chosen his sub- 
ject, they conversed for some time with 
equal candor and moderation; but Hender- 
son's antagonist, perceiving his confutation 
inevitable (forgetting the character of a gen- 
tleman, and with a resentment engendered 
by his former arrogance), threw a full glass 
of wine in his face. Henderson, without 
altering his features or changing his position, 
gently wiped his face and then cooly re- 
plied, "This, sir, is a digression; now for 
the argument." 



We sometimes hear individuals, when in 
a state of excitement, and indeed occasion- 
ally when calm and cool, avow a determina- 
tion never to forgive an offence or an insult 
on the part of another. This disposition, so 
bitter and relentless, is not only anti-Chris- 
tian, but it is impolitic and unreasonable. 
If we were to submit ourselves to the same 
severe standard — if we were to have treas- 
ured up against us, never to be cancelled or 
blotted from the record, all our errors and 
misdoings, the future would present a sad 
and gloomy prospect indeed. We are all 
more or less liable to temptation — the 
temptations of feeling, of passion, of predju- 
dice, of ambition, and of interest. And if, 
having yielded in any one case, the door of 
penitence and forgiveness should be closed 
against us, our lot would be embittered 
through life. 

Power of Temptation. 

Many, very many, says an eminent writer, 
" fall before some overpowering temptation, 
not only in youth but in mature years. But 
God forbid that either the one or the other 
should shut us out from all return. It is 
only against the man who wilfully and 
deliberately chooses the wrong course, as 
that which he is determined to follow, that 
the door can be said to be closed. For 
every other there is always an opportunity 
of retreading his steps — of abandoning evil, 
and seeking right." 

This is liberal, benevolent, and humane 
doctrine. No one can tell the inducements 
and vicissitudes by which another has been 
surrounded — the struggle of mind, the con- 
flict of heart, the excitement, the madness 
and the despair, at the time of having 
departed from the right path and followed 
the wrong. We have known instances in 
which individuals have trembled with dismay 



368 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



after the commission of some act of guilt ; 
have been perfectly appalled at the enormity 
of the offence, overwhelmed with shame and 
confusion, and puzzled and confounded as to 
the infatuation that could so have overcome 
them. 

Under all such circumstances, the erring 
should, by gentle and generous means, be 
won back to well doing. They see the false 
step they have taken, and they would gladly 
retrace the path. But the world too often 
joins in the shout of reproach and indigna- 
tion, exults over the fall of another h'uman 
being, and hurries on the poor wretch who 
has committed the error to some more 
desperate act of darkness and despair. There 
is no angel voice to whisper consolation, to 
urge penitence, to utter sympathy and for- 
giveness. 

How to Treat the Erring. 

And yet mercy is one of the noblest 
attributes of our nature. The man who 
can look with a lenient eye upon the errors 
of his fellow-creatures ; who, seeing they 
have done wrong, is willing to make allow- 
ances, and to urge them to return again to 
the paths of rectitude and of duty, is indeed 
a Christian in the true, the real, the enno- 
bling sense. Would that this disposition 
were more general ; would that greater 
efforts were made to win the erring from 
their first misdeeds, to forgive them for the 
past, and cheer them on to better conduct 
for the future. 

When, however, the guilty, by sudden 
temptation by penury, passion, or despair, 
find themselves not only denounced and 
abandoned, but hunted and persecuted, the 
heart shrinks and changes within them. 
The better qualities of their natur'=^ are em- 
bittered, their faith in humanity is weakened 
or lost, and they rush on wildly and bhndly 



in a dark career of guilt and all its fearful 
consequences. Who has not committed 
error ? Who has not strayed away from 
high principle, unwavering rectitude, and the 
lofty standard of perfection ? 

And yet who would not revolt at the idea 
of having the door of forgiveness closed 
against him — of being doomed to suffer, no 
matter how deep his contrition, or how 
severe his penalty of regret, remorse and 
punishment ? A penitent should ever be 
welcomed again to the fold of virtue. If, in 
the first place, he found himself unable to 
resist the temptations of his position in the 
world, if despite his convictions to the con- 
trary, he nevertheless went astray and kept 
astray for years, the effort by which he at 
last recovered himself, and asserted the 
supremacy of the moral and the right over 
the immoral and wrong, must have been a 
vigorous and a noble one. 

Forgiving and Forgetting. 

He deserves credit therefor ; and, if sin- 
cere, should not only be taken by the hand 
freely and willingly, but the darkness of his 
past character should be blotted forever from 
the memory. We should forget, if possible, 
and assuredly we should forgive. We 
should act towards others here, in humble 
imitation of the spirit that our faith teaches 
us to hope from the justice and the mercy of 
the Great Judge hereafter. How beautifully 
is this idea conveyed by Tupper : 

To forget ? It is hard for a man with a mind. 

However his heart may forgive, 
To blot out all perils and dangers behind. 

And but for the future to live. 
Then how shall it be ? for at every turn 

Recollection the spirit will fret. 
And the ashes of injury smolder and burn, 

Though we strive to forgive and forget. 

Oh, hearken ! my tongue shall the riddle unseal. 
And mind shall be partner with heart. 



FORGIVENESS. 



369 



While to thyself I bid conscience reveal, 

And show thee how evil thou art. 
Remember thy follies, thy sins, and — thy crimes ; 

How vast is that infinite debt ! 
Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times 

Been swift to forgive and forget ! 

Brood not on insults or injuries old. 

For thou art injurious too — ■ 
Count not their sum till the total is told. 

For thou art unkind and untrue ; 
And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven, 

Now Mercy with Justice is met. 
Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of Heaven, 

And learn to forgive and forget ! 

Yes, yes, let a man, when his enemy weeps. 

Be quick to receive him a friend ; 
For thus on his head in kindness he heaps 

Hot coals, — to refine and amend ! 
And hearts that are Christian more eagerly yearn 

As a nurse on her innocent pet. 
Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn, 

And whisper, ' ' forgive and forget. ' ' 

Martin F. Tupper. 

Our Common Frailties. 

An intelligent friend contends that all men 
have their peculiarities, and are more or less 
monomaniacs. He admits his own mtirmi- 
ties, but expresses a hope that they partake 
of the amiable and the mild rather than the 
malignant and the vicious, and he therefore 
indulges the belief that, to a certain extent, 
his errors are of a harmless character. 
Nothing human, indeed, is perfect. All 
have their frailties and their short-comings, 
and it very frequently happens that the very 
blemishes we see and complain of in others 
are those by which we ourselves are dis- 
figured, but to which we, nevertheless, are 
unconscious or blind. 

But is it true that all are' more or less 
monomaniacs — that every member of the 
human family is deluded and deceived to a 
certain extent upon some one subject? The 
position is startling at the first blush, and yet 
it is not without a semblance of truth. We 
cannot, in most cases, discover the fact in 

24 



ourselves, although there are many who 
know and admit that they have tastes, habits 
and prejudices to which they are in some 
sense slaves, which control and master them 
with an irresistible power, and from which 
they endeavor in vain to escape. 

At certain periods they will wrestle and 
battle in the most vigorous manner against 
their evil genius, and with apparent success ; 
and yet the effect will only be temporary. 
The old habit will come back at some unex- 
pected moment, and they will yield to it 
unconsciously. 

But with others the difficulty of discover- 
ing the weakness and the vice is indeed 
great. It is curious, but it is not the less 
true, that the faults and follies of our neigh- 
bors are the ordinary themes of comment 
and criticism, that others are ridiculed as 
monomaniacs upon this subject or upon 
that, and are denounced accordingly, while 
we cannot or will not see a similarity in 
ourselves. 

Habitual Slanderers. 

There is scarcely an individual who cannot 
single out from amongst his circle of acquaint- 
ance some one who is characterized by pecu- 
liarities so marked and strong as to render 
him eccentric. If the error, habit or infirmity 
be of an evil tendency, so much the worse. 
If it be to defame, to denounce, to abuse and 
misrepresent, it is indeed censurable and 
deplorable, and calculated to do much harm. 
And that there are such persons with such 
habits, slanderers by constitution, calumnia- 
tors by monomania, is beyond all question. 

There are others, again, who run wild 
upon some peculiar idea. They can think 
and talk of nothing else. Their minds and 
their hearts seem to have become absorbed 
in a delusion, a dream or a prejudice, and in 
this they indulge in season and out of season, 



370 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and without reference to discretion, common 
sense, or of the ordinary rules of social life. 
They are enthusiasts, zealots, nay, worse — 
monomaniacs. Everything — according to 
their doctrine — should yield to the one 
great purpose. All other interests or con- 
siderations should be forgotten ; and, infatu- 
ated for the time by their peculiar idiosyn- 
crasy, they can think of nothing else, and 
frequently sacrifice themselves to an ignis 
fatuus of the brain. 

Even among the most illustrious men of 
ancient and modern times, peculiarities, and 
often of a most ridiculous kind, have been 
noticed. If, therefore, great intellectual lights 
have been thus characterized, we cannot be 
surprised that the comparatively feeble in 
.itellect should manifest similar infirmities. 
There are, indeed, not a few individuals who 
'n their ordinary course of life are frank, 
-nanly and generous, but who, nevertheless, 
■;n certain cases, are narrow, contracted and 
niggardly. 

Hard-Hearted People. 
They will spend thousands in particular 
kiinds of pomp and display, and yet turn the 
■hivering beggar starving from the door. 
I hey will invest large sums in public enter- 
prises, and manifest deep interest in patriotic 
movements, and yet they are insensible to 
the appeals of real benevolence. They have, 
by some false mode of reasoning, persuaded 
themselves that all the unfortunate and the 
poor are idle and dishonest, and they act 
upon this bitter and heartless policy. 

This is, indeed, a deplorable description of 
monomania, for it not only deforms the char- 
acter of the victim, but it misleads his judg- 
ment, hardens his heart, and renders him a 
curse instead of a blessing to society. We 
are acquainted with an intelligent and estima- 
ble citizen, who is a passionate collector of 



all kinds of pamphlets, old and new. He 
must have accumulated thousands and tens 
of thousands — more than he could read 
during a long lifetime. He is now in the 
"sere and yellow leaf," and yet the passion 
is, if possible, more active than ever. It is, 
of course, perfectly harmless, and we only 
mention it by way of illustrating the general 
topic. 

The Duty of Charity. 

The moral of our philosophy is, that while 
we are blind to, or unconscious of, our own 
errors in this respect, we should be indulgent 
to those of others. We should, at least,, 
consider all the circumstances, and not 
denounce harshly or hastily. And if, more- 
over, we are exempt from, and have escaped 
any serious infirmity, if we have no particu- 
lar vice or weakness, no inveterate habit or 
bitter prejudice, if, in brief, we know our- 
selves, and are capable of governing our 
tastes, appetites and passions, we should not 
only be grateful to Providence, but endeavor 
to deal generously and forbearingly toward 
those who are less fortunate in their moral, 
mental, and social temper, composition and 
constitution. Let us beheve, moreover, that 
we have some infirmity of the kind, which, 
although not seen by our eyes, is visible tO' 
those of others. 

Yes ; it is too true that every human 
being has faults and infirmities, and is con- 
stantly liable to be the occasion of pain and 
sorrow to others. We shall always be liable 
to errors of judgment. In short, we shall 
need to be forgiven. We shall be most ex- 
cellent subjects for charity. Now, we should 
be willing to grant fair play to everybody ; 
we should not expect to receive more than 
we are disposed to give. There is an old 
golden rule that says : " Do to others as 
you would that they should do to you." 




THE RECONCILIATION. 



371 



372 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



Why call this rule golden ? Gold is the 
most precious of all metals, and so by com- 
mon consent this rule is the best ever given 
for human conduct. If we observe it, we 
jlshall have a forgiving disposition, because 
we are sure to need that gentle forbearance 
and charity, which form the brightest gems 
in every character. How unreasonable then 
to cherish ill-will and refuse to overlook an 
injury. Be more generous. Be more noble. 
Be more like Him who, with dying breath, 
prayed for his enemies, and in that prayer 
which has become the world's prayer, made 
our forgiveness of others the condition on 
which we are to expect forgiveness for our- 
selves. 

Joseph Bradford was for many years the 
travelling companion of the Rev. John 
Wesley, and considered no assistance to him 
too servile, but was subject to changes of 
temper. Wesley directed him to carry a 
package of letters to the post ; Bradford 
wished to hear his sermon first ; Wesley was 
urgent and insisted; Bradford refused. 
"Then," said Wesley, "you and I must 
part." " Very good, sir," replied Bradford. 

They slept over it. On rising the next 
morning Wesley accosted his old friend and 
asked if he had considered what he had 
said, that "they must part." " Yes, sir," 
replied Bradford. "And must we part?" 
inquired Wesley. " Please yourself, sir," 
was the reply. " Will you ask my pardon ?" 
rejoined Wesley. " No, sir." " You won't ? " 
" No, sir." " Then I will ask yours ! " re- 
plied the great man. Bradford melted under 
the example, and wept like a child. 

A Hard Lesson. 

When on the fragrant sandal tree 
The woodman's axe descends, 
And she, who bloomed so beauteously, 
Beneath the weapon bends — 
JB'en on the edge that wrought her death, 



Dying she breathes her sweetest breath, 

As if to token in her fall 

Peace to her foes, and love to all. 

How hardly man this lesson learns, 
To smile, and bless the hand that spurns ; 
To see the blow, to feel the pain, 
And render only love again ! 
Ons had it — But He came from heaven, 
Reviled, rejected, and betrayed ; 
No curse He breathed, no plaint He made, 
But when in death's dark pang He sighed. 
Prayed for His murderers, and died. 

J. Edmeston. 

Pleasure of Forgiveness. 

Have you never felt the pleasure of forgiving fraud 

or wrong 
Rippling through your soul like measure sweet of 

sweetest poet's song? 
Have you never felt that beauty lies in pain for 

others borne ? 
That the sacredness of duty bids you offer love for 

scorn ? 
'Tis the Christian, not the Stoic, that best triumphs 

over pain. 

It is related in ancient history that Pom- 
pey had resolved to chastise the Himereans 
for attempting to support his enemies, when 
the orator Sthennis told him he would act 
unjustly if he passed by the person that was 
guilty, and punished the innocent. Pompey 
asked him who was the guilty person, and 
he answered, " I am the man. I persuaded 
my friends, and compelled my enemies, to 
take the measures they did." Pompey, de- 
lighted with his frank confession and noble 
spirit, forgave him first, and afterward all 
the people of Himera. 

One of our American historians makes 
particular mention of the fact that among 
the propensities of the red men was the pas- 
sion for war. Their wars, however, were 
always undertaken for the redress of griev- 
ances, real and imaginary, and not for con- 
quest. But with the Indian a redress of 
grievances meant a personal, vindictive and 
bloody vengeance on the defender. The 



FORGIVENESS. 



373 



Indian's principles of war were easily under- 
stood, but irreconcilable with justice and hu- 
manity. The forgiveness of an injury was 
reckoned a weakness and a shame. Revenge 
was considered among the nobler virtues. 

The open honorable battle of the field 
was an event unknown in Indian warfare. 
Fighting was limited to the surprise, the 
ambuscade, the massacre ; and military 
strategy consisted of cunning and treacnery. 
Quarter was rarely asked and never granted ; 
those who were spared from the fight were 
only reserved for a barbarous captivity, ran- 
som or the stake. In the torture of his 
victims all the diabolical ferocity of the 
savage warrior's nature burst forth without 
restraint. 

In contrast with this unforgiving and 
bloodthirsty spirit, read what is said of one 
of England's great chief ju-stices. 

Generous Forbearance. 

A man who had done Sir Matthew Hale 
a great injury came afterward to him for his 
advice in the settlement of his estate. Sir 
Matthew gave his advice very frankly to 
him, but would accept of no fee for it ; and 
thereby showed, both that he could forgive 
as a Christian, and that he had the spirit of 
a gentleman, not to take money of one who 
had wronged him so grievously. When he 
was asked how he could use a man so kindly 
who had wronged him so much, his answer 
was, he thanked God he had learned to for- 
get injuries. 

Similar was the spirit of Napoleon, as 
already stated. After his escape from exile 
at Elba, and his re-ascension of the throne 
of France, members of that senate which 
had pronounced Napoleon's forfeiture of the 
throne, called tremblingly, with their con- 
gratulations. The emperor received them 
with courtesy, and gave no indication of the 



shghtest resentment. "I leave that act," 
said he, "for history to relate. For my 
part, I forget all past occurrences." 

Be assured that much depends upon the 
manner in which we forgive an injury. Mr. 
A. goes to Mr. B. and says, "You and I 
have lived here side by side for many years 
and without any trouble or signs of a quar- 
rel until lately. I feel uneasy; I am very 
unhappy because our pleasant relations have 
been disturbed, and I am very anxious to 
talk the matter over with you and see if we 
cannot make up and be as good friends as 
ever." 

A Cool Reception. 

''I should think it was about time you 
came to your senses," blurts out Mr. B. " Do 
you know, you have acted like a simpleton ? 
You ought to have come to me with your 
confession long ago. However, go on, let 
me hear what you have got to say, but un- 
derstand that you have been in the wrong 
and the blame is all on your side." 

"We will not stop to discuss that," says 
Mr. A. "I have not come to rake up the 
old trouble and live it all over again. Sup- 
pose for the sake of peace I take all the 
blame." 

"Well, how could you do anything else? 
You must be very obtuse, to suppose I'm 
going to take the blame for your blunders 
and malicious deeds. You have said and 
done what you knew was wrong at the time. 
You are an evil-disposed, crusty, thoughtless 
person anyway." 

And so Mr. B. takes Mr. A., roasts him 
over the fire of his resentment, gives him a 
piece of his mind, as he calls it, and is eager 
to have the quarrel continue. Now, Mr. B., 
you had better not give. a piece of your mind 
to anybody. A mind as small as yours is 
can't afford to part with any. You have 



^74 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



very little mind and you should be economi- 
cal and keep all you have. 

"You surprise me," says Mr. A., "for I 
thought you would be neighborly, and 
would overlook the past, as I have asked 
you to do. Don't blow the embers into a 
name again. I am not only willing to meet 
you half way but more ; now let us be 
friends again." 

Mr. B. is one of those resentful, unforgiv- 
ing mortals, who are never quite so happy 
as when they are nursing some old grudge. 
They are weak-minded, sour, crabbed, de- 
testable. They die some time or other, and 
that is the best thing they can do. The 
world does not want them, is better off with- 
out them, is glad to get rid of them. 

A Human Porcupine. 

Finally, after Mr. B. has raked up the old 
trouble, has made the worst out of it, has 
given vent to his petty revenge, has gratified 
his fiendish spirit, has poured the vials of 
his vengeance on the head of his old neigh- 
bor, he reluctantly consents to shake hands 
and come to terms. The manner in which 
the trouble was settled is so unsatisfactory 
that you might almost say there is no settle- 
ment at all. How different it would have 
been if this porcupine, Mr. B., instead of 
bristling up, instead of snapping and snarling 
and digging up the old root of bitterness, 
had said in a noble generous way, "I'm 
more than glad to see you, neighbor A. In 
fact, I have thought many times of calling 
to see if we could not be reconciled. Don't 
talk about the past ; let it all go ; it was a 
most unfortunate circumstance ; I don't want 
you to take the blame any more than I am 
willing to take it myself Friends again ? 
Of course, we will be friends and never 
ought to have been anything else." 

This would have been a happy termination 



of the quarrel. The sunhght of forgiveness 
would have beamed in each face and each 
would have known the joy of charity and 
reconciliation. 

It happened that a gentleman in one of 
our eastern towns took great offence against 
a merchant in the same place, and after 
brooding a long time over the fancied injury, 
stepped into the store one morning, bent on 
a pitched battle. His lip curled, fire was in 
his eye, the heat of anger burned upon his 
cheek, and he was m-ore hke a madman than 
a Christian. Meeting the merchant, he said 
in a loud tone of voice, " It was all false, 
every word of it. You are a base scoundrel, 
and I have come to tell you right to your 
face what I think of you." 

Said the merchant with his blandest smile, 
" O, no matter about that; I will excuse 
you ; I've nothing against you, but see here, 
I've some choice goods I would like to show 
you this morning, and I will sell them 
very cheap." 

Nine-Tenths are Foolish. 

The merchant went on talking about his 
goods and was as pleasant as sunshine, very 
affable and polite. The other tried to say 
some severe things, but finding he would 
have the quarrel all to himself, saw the ab- 
surdity of what he was doing and with a 
look of shame turned and left the store. "A 
soft answer," says the proverb, "turneth 
away wrath." This merchant had a good 
knowledge of human nature. He was not 
ready for an encounter, and probably under- 
stood that nine-tenths of the personal mis- 
understandings in the world are causeless 
and foolish. How often it happens that a 
simple explanation will give an entirely new 
view to conduct that was first thought to be 
very reprehensible. For this reason it is 
important that we should meet all enmity in. 



FORGIVENESS. 



37 r. 



a charitable spirit and should be ready to 
forgive. 

Says Sir Thomas Browne : " Let not the 
sun in Capricorn [when the days are short- 
est] go down upon the wrath, but write thy 
wrongs in ashes. Draw the curtain of night 
upon injuries, shut them up in the tower of 
oblivion, and let them be as though they had 
not been. To forgive our enemies, yet hope 
that God will punish them, is not to forgive 
■enough. To forgive them ourselves, and 
not to pray God to forgive them, is a partial 
act of charity. Forgive thine enemies totally. 
and without any reserve that, however, God 
will revenge thee." 

We Should be Silent. 

Says Addison: "If a man has any talent 
in writing, it shows a good mind to forbear 
answering calumnies and reproaches in the 
same spirit of bitterness in which they are 
offered. But when a man has been at some 
pains in making suitable returns to an enemy, 
and has the instruments of revenge in his 
hands, to let drop his wrath, and stifle his 
resentments, seems to have something in it 
great and heroical. There is a peculiar 
merit in such a way of forgiving an enemy ; 
and the more violent and unprovoked the 
offence has been, the greater still is the merit 
■of him who thus forgives it." 

Says Chalmers : " Tell us, ye men who 
are so jealous of right and honor, who take 
sudden fire at every insult, and suffer the 
slightest imagination of another's contempt, 
or another's unfairness, to chase from your 
bosom every feeling of complacency ; ye 
men whom every fancied affront puts in such 
a turbulence of emotion, and in whom every 
fancied infringement stirs up the quick and 
the resentful appetite for justice, how will 
you stand the rigorous application of that 
test by which the forgiven of God are ascer- 



tained, even that the spirit of forgiveness is 
in them, and by which it will be pronounced 
whether you are, indeed, the children of the 
Highest, and perfect as your Father in 
heaven is perfect ? " 

Says Cowper : "Alas! if my best Friend, 
who laid down his life for me, were to re- 
member all the instances in which I have 
neglected Him, and to plead them against 
me in judgment, where should I hide my 
guilty head in the day of recompense ? I 
will pray, therefore, for blessings upon my 
friends, even though they cease to be so, and 
upon my enemies, though they continue 
such." 

Says Lord Herbert : " He that cannot 
forgive others breaks the bridge over which 
he must pass himself; for every man has 
need to be forgiven." 

How Injuries are Defeated. 

Says Dr. Johnson : " A constant and un- 
failing obedience is above the reach of ter- 
restrial diligence ; and, therefore, the pro- 
gress of life could only have been the natural 
descent of negligent despair from crime to 
crime, had not the universal persuasion of 
forgiveness to be obtained by proper means 
of reconciliation recalled those to the paths 
of virtue whom their passions had solicited 
aside, and animated to new attempts and 
firmer perseverance those whom difficulty 
had discouraged, or negligence surprised." 

Says Alexander Pope : " Whoever is 
really brave has always this comfort when he 
is oppressed, that he knows himself to be 
superior to those who injure him, by forgiv- 
ing it." 

Says Paul Richter : " Humanity is never 
so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, 
or else forgiving another. Nothing is more 
moving to man than the spectacle of recon ■ 
ciliation : our weaknesses are thus indemni- 



376 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



fied, and are not too costly, being the price 
we pay for the hour of forgiveness ; and the 
archangel who has never felt anger, has 
reason to envy the man who subdues it. 
When thou forgivest, the man who has 
pierced thy heart stands to thee in the rela- 
tion of the sea-worm that perforates the shell 
of the mussel, which straightway closes the 
wound with a pearl." 

Says Sterne : " The brave only know how 
to forgive : it is the most refined and gener- 
ous pitch of virtue human nature can arrive 
at. Cowards have done good and kind 
actions ; cowards have even fought, nay, 
sometimes conquered; but a coward never 
forgave — it is not in his nature ; the power 
of doing it flows only from a strength and 
greatness of soul conscious of its own force 
and security, and above a,ll the little tempta- 
tions of resenting every fruitless attempt to 
interrupt its happiness." 

Not to Overlook Justice. 

Says Whateley : " The duty of the Chris- 
tian forgiveness does not require you, nor 
are you allowed, to look on injustice, or any 
other fault, with indifference, as if it were 
nothing wrong at all, merely because it is 
you that have been wronged. 

" But even where we cannot but censure, 
in a moral point of view, the conduct of 
those who have injured us, we should 
remember that such treatment as may be 
very fitting for them to receive may be very 
unfitting for us to give. To cherish, or to 
gratif)/, haughty resentment, is a departure 
from the pattern left us by Him who ' en- 
dured such contradiction of sinners against 
Himself,' not to be justified by any offence 
that can be committed against us. And it 
is this recollection of Him who, faultless 
Himself, designed to leave us an example of 
meekness and long-suffering, that is the true 



principle and motive of Christian forgiveness. 
We shall best fortify our patience under 
injuries by remembering how much we our- 
selves have to be forgiven." 

"An old Spanish writer says, ' To return 
evil for good is devilish ; to return good for 
good is human; but to return good for evil 
is Godlike.' " 

History has many records of harsh sever- 
ity and revenge. One of the most painful is 
the treatment accorded to Sir Walter Ral- 
eigh. There was an alleged conspiracy 
against James I. Raleigh underwent a trial, 
which, though the issue declared him guilty, 
leaves the mind in a state of absolute skepti- 
cism with regard to the reality of this con- 
spiracy, or of his concern in it. Raleigh's 
sentence was suspended for the course of 
fifteen years, during most of which time he 
was confined in the Tower, where he em- 
ployed himself in the composition of his 
" History of the World," a work excellent in 
point of style, and in many branches valuable 
in point of matter. 

Executed at Last. 

In the last year of his life he received the 
king's commission of admiral to undertake 
an expedition for the discovery of some rich 
mines in Guiana. This, which, if not law, 
humanity at least ought to have interpreted 
into a pardon of his offence, was, however, 
not so understood by the monarch, whose 
heart had no great portion of the generous 
feelings. Raleigh's expedition was unsuc- 
cessful ; the court of Spain complained of an 
attack which he had made upon one of their 
settlements. James wished to be at peace 
with Spain, and Raleigh, at his return, was 
ordered to be beheaded on his former sen- 
tence. 

A striking instance of the folly of resent- 
ment is furnished by the duel between Com- 



FORGIVENESS. 



377 



modores Decatur and Barron. The word 
being given, they fired so exactly together 
that it sounded Hke the report of one pistol. 
Barron fell, badly wounded. Decatur was 
about to fall, but was caught, and staggered 
forward a few steps, and sank down close to 
Barron ; and, as they lay on the ground, 
both expecting to die, they conversed to- 
gether as follows, as near as could be col- 
lected : " Let us," said Barron, " make friends 
before we meet in heaven. Everything has 
been conducted in the most honorable ma^n- 
ner, and I forgive you from the bottom of 
my heart." 

" I have never been your enemy," Decatur 
replied, " and I freely forgive you my death, 
though I cannot forgive those who stimulated 
you to seek my life." "Would to God," 
said Barron, "that you had said as much 
yesterday ! " According to one witness, 
Decatur added : " God bless you, Barron." 
To which Barron replied, " God bless you, 
Decatur." Decatur died and Barron survived. 

But not merely on great occasions when 
we feel that we have been injured in connec- 
tion with some very important transaction, 
but in the little affairs of everyday life and 
in the home is there need of showing the 
spirit of forgiveness. 

The well-known authoress, Mrs. Gaskell, 
draws a beautiful picture in one of her 



works of a forgiving disposition. Perhaps 
some of my readers will remember the little 
household of Captain Brown and his two 
daughters. The elder of these was unfortu- 
nately an invalid. Her natural disposition 
was not the most amiable, and to this was 
added the peevishness which arises irom ill- 
health. She was a chronic fault-finder. Only 
occasionally did there come a gleam of 
cheerfulness and affection. 

Her younger sister showed almost the de~ 
votion of an angel, was kind and attentive, 
and with all a sis'.e;-'s rentleness, nursed the 
sufferer until death ga\e her a happy release. 
In her last moments she felt that she could 
not die without asking forgiveness from the 
dear one, who had been so devoted and 
patient. The scene as described is enough 
to move every heart. With noble, womanly 
magnanimity the younger sister took the 
hand of the dying one, assured her that all 
was forgiven even before that forgiveness 
was asked, and with a smile upon her face 
the elder sister fell peacefully asleep. 

O, what peace and happiness does it bring 
to ask and receive forgiveness when we know 
we have injured another, and what joy does it 
bring to grant what is asked. If it must 
needs be that offences come, this is God's 
own way of sef-'.ing th=m and blotting them 
from the reco'd oi' n-n Jiros. 




BASE INGRATITUDE 



378 



CHAPTKR XXIV. 
GRATITUDE. 




HERE is a world of meaning 
in those two short words, 
"Thankyou." You may have 
spoken them many times 
from the mere force of habit ; 
you have uttered them form- 
ally and without thought. 
They belong to the better side of life and 
stand opposed to ingratitude. 

Did you ever think how much is meant 
by our national Thanksgiving? Bear in 
mind that the Government at Washington 
appoints a special day for the expression of 
gratitude. It is expected that all business 
will be suspended, that the shop and the 
store will be closed, that the wheels of the 
factory will rest, that the sounds of labor 
will be hushed, and the people will think of 
iheir blessings. Is he not an ungrateful 
wretch who fails to catch the meaning of 
this day, recall the benefits he has received, 
and prize the treasures of health and pros- 
perity ? A national Thanksgiving is reason- 
able, for, as we receive the season's bounty, 
so we should give evidence that we appre- 
ciate it. The very flowers lift up their beau- 
tiful lips as if to bless the sun that warms 
them into lovehness. 

Practically, our national Thanksgiving is 
a national harvest festival, fixed by proc- 
lamation of the president and the governors 
of States, and ranks as a legal holiday. In 
1789 the Episcopal Church formally recog- 
nized the civil government's authority to 
appoint such a feast, and in 1888 the Roman 
Catholic Church also decided to honor a 



festival, which had long been nearly univer 
sally observed — though nowhere with such 
zest as in the New England States, where it 
ranks as the great annual family festival, 
taking the place which in England is 
accorded to Christmas. 

The earliest harvest Thanksgiving in 
America was kept by the Pilgrim Fathers at 
Plymouth in 1621, and was repeated often 
during that and the ensuing century ; Con- 
gress commended days of thanksgiving an- 
nually during the revolution, and in 1789 
after the adoption of the constitution, and in 
1795 for the general benefits and welfare of 
the nation. Since 18 17 the festival has 
been observed annually in New York, and 
since 1863 the presidents have always issued 
proclamations appointing the last Thursday 
of November as Thanksgiving Day. 

Grateful for Everything. 

People who have all the luxuries of life, 
who are possessed of abundant means, who 
have only to wish, and the wish is gratified, 
yet are forever complaining, moping, grum- 
bling, and appear to be disgusted with every- 
thing in general, except themselves, may 
smile in derision at the historic statement 
that the good old Pilgrim Fathers should 
have appointed a day of thanksgiving. 
What had they to be thankful for? No 
stately mansions, no gardens of floral beauty, 
no velvet carpets, no rosewood furniture, no 
glittering chandeliers, no service of silver or 
gold, no silks and satins, no fashions from 
Worth in Paris. How did the poor crea- 

379 



380 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



tures live? Log houses,, chinked with mor- 
tar, bare floors and unpainted ceilings, 
homespun garments, a wilderness of savages 
around, the real comforts of home entirely 
wanting, plain clothes, plain fare, plain man- 
ners — these very commonplace accessories 
make up the picture of their rugged life. 
They toiled, they struggled, they fought, 
they suffered, they sometimes knew hunger 
and privation — they were happy. 

Story of a Cripple. 

At all events, they resigned themselves to 
the situation, made the most of their mercies, 
were always thankful, and went so far as 
to appoint a day for expressing their grati- 
tude. Do you say they had nothing for 
which to be thankful ? Would you say that 
the poor beggar in the streets of New York 
who had lost both arms in the war was a 
self-deceiver, when he made a reply one day 
to a person who was pitying him ? " Poor 
fellow," said a lady, who met him, " you 
have been very unfortunate." " Poor fel- 
low," exclaimed the man, " why, I saw a 
man the other day who had lost both legs 
and both arms, and came near losing his 
head at that. Madam, I'm thankful for 
what's left of me." You may think this 
beggar was a philosopher. What hinders 
you from being a philosopher ? You may 
think others are far better off than you are ] 
you live in a mansion, but the man across 
the street has a house that is two feet higher 
than yours, and grounds that are a yard 
wider, and your heart is just broken. And 
so you are making yourself miserable and 
ungrateful. I had almost said you ought to 
be stripped as clean as Robinson Crusoe 
was on his island. You do not deserve such 
a tow jacket as the old Pilgrim Fathers 
were glad to get, and thought was good 
enough to go to church in. Be grateful for 



the bounty that crowns your life. Have 
some nobility of character ; take and enjoy 
what you have. Don't sour all your bless- 
ings, with the vinegar of a mean, unthankful 
spirit. 

Causes for Thankfulness. 

For all that God in mercy sends ; 

For health and children, home and friendt. 

For comfort in the time of need. 

For eveiy kindly word and deed, 

For happy thoughts and holy talk, 

For guidance in our daily walk, 

For everything give thanks ! 

For beauty in this world of ours, 
For verdant grass and lovely flowers. 
For song of birds, for hum of bees, 
For the refreshing summer breeze, 
For hill and plain, for streams and wood, 
For the great ocean's mighty flood, 
In everything give thanks ! 

For the sweet sleep which comes with night, 
For the returning morning's light. 
For the bright sun that shines on high. 
For the stars glittering in the sky, 
For these and everything we see, 
O Lord ! our hearts we lift to Thee, 
For everything give thanks ! 

Fl^IvEN ISABELIrA TUPPER. 

Said a very old man : " Some folks are 
complaining about the weather; but I am 
very thankful when I wake up in the morn- 
ing to find any weather at all." We may 
smile at the simplicity of the old man, but 
still his language indicates a spirit that con- 
tributes much to a calm and peaceful life. 
It is better and wiser to cultivate that spirit 
than to be always complaining of things, as 
we are. Be thankful for such mercies as 
you have, and if God sees that it will be for 
your good and his glory, he will give you 
many more. At least, do not make your- 
self and others unhappy by your ingratitude 
and complaints. Amidst abundance do not 
make j^ourself poor by persuading yourself 
that you have nothing. 



GRATITUDE. 



381 



Base Ingratitude. 

The stall-fed ox, that is grown fat, will know 
His careful feeder, and acknowledge too ; 
The generous spaniel loves his master's eye, 
And licks his fingers though no meat be by : 
But man, ungrateful man, that's born and bred 
By Heaven 's immediate power ; maintained and fed 
By His providing hand ; observed, attended. 
By His indulgent grace ; preserved, defended. 
By His prevailing arm : this man, I say. 
Is more ungrateful, more obdure than they. 
Man, O, most ungrateful man, can ever 
Enjoy Thy gift, but never mind the Giver ; 
And like the swine, though pampered with enough. 
His eyes are never higher than the trough. 

Francis Quarles. 

Blessings Forgotten. 

"We find the fiercest things that live, 
The savage born, the wildly rude. 

When soothed by Mercy's hand, will give 
Some faint response of gratitude. 

But man ! — oh ! blush, ye lordly race ! — 

Shrink back, and question thy proud heart ! 

Do ye not lack that thankful grace 

Which ever forms the soul's best part I 

Will ye not take the blessings given. 
The priceless boon of ruddy health. 

The sleep unbroken, peace unriven. 
The cup of joy, the mine of wealth — 

Will ye not take them all, and yet 
Walk from the cradle to the grave, 

Enjoying, boasting, and forget 

To think upon the God that gave ? 

Thou'lt even kneel to blood-stained kings, 
Nor fear to have thy serfdom known ; 

Thy knee will bend for bauble things, 
Yet fail to seek its Maker's throne. 

■ EtizA Cook. 

Gratitude -s a painful pleasure, felt and 
expressed by none but noble souls. Such 
are pained, because misfortune places them 
under the stern necessity of receiving favors 
from the benevolent, who are, as the world 
would say, under no obligations to bestow 
them — free-will offerings, made by generous 
hearts, to smooth the rough path, and wipe 



away the tears of a fellow being. They 
derive a pleasure from the enjoyment of the 
benefits bestowed, which is rendered more 
exquisite by the reflection that there are 
those in the world who can feel and appre- 
ciate the woes of others, and lend a willing 
hand to help them out of the ditch ; those 
who are not wrapped up in the cocoon of 
selfish avarice, who live only for themselves, 
and die for the devil. 

This pleasure is farther refined by a knowl- 
edge of the happiness enjoyed by the person 
whose benevolence dictated the relief in the 
contemplation of a duty performed, imposed 
by angelic philanthropy, guided by motives 
pure as heaven. The worthy recipient feels 
deeply the obligations under which he is 
placed ; no time can obliterate them from his 
memory, no statute of limitation bars the 
payment ; the moment, means and oppor- 
tunity are within his power, the debt is joy- 
fully liquidated, and this very act gives a 
fre"'! vigor to his long-cherished gratitude. 

Planting Trees for Others. 

A very poor and aged man, busied in 
planting and grafting an apple tree, was 
rudely interrupted by this interrogation: 
" Why do you plant trees, who cannot hope 
to eat the fruit of them?" He raised him- 
self up, and leaning upon his spade, replied : 
"Some one planted trees for me before I was 
born, and I have eaten the fruit ; I now plant 
for others, that the memorial of my gratitude 
may exist when I am dead and gone." It 
is a species of agreeable servitude to be 
under an obligation to those we esteem. 
Ingratitude is a crime so shameful that the 
man has not yet been found who would 
acknowledge himself guilty of it. 

Nothing tenders the heart, and opens the 
gushing fountain of love, more than the 
exercise of gratitude. Like the showers of 



382 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



spring, that cause flowers to rise from seeds 
that have long lain dormant, tears of grati- 
tude awaken pleasurable sensations, unknown 
to those who have never been forced from 
the sunshine of prosperity into the cold shade 
of adversity, where no warmth is felt but 
that of benevolence; no light enjoyed but 
that of charity ; unless it shall be the warmth 
and light communicated from Heaven to the 
sincerely pious, who alone are prepared to 
meet, with calm submission, the keen and 
chilling winds of misfortune, and who, above 
all others, exercise the virtue of gratitude, 
in the full perfection of its native beauty. 

The Grecian Soldier. 

A certain soldier in the Macedonian army 
had in many instances distinguished himself 
by extraordinary marks, of valor, and had 
received many marks of Philip's favor and 
approbation. On some occasion he em- 
barked on board a vessel, which was 
wrecked by a violent storm, and he him- 
self cast on the shore helpless and naked, 
and scarcely with the appearance of life. 
A Macedonian, whose lands were contiguous 
to the sea, came opportunely to be witness 
of his distress ; and, with all humane and 
charitable tenderness, flew to the rehef of the 
unhappy stranger. He bore him to his 
house, laid him in his own bed, revived, 
cherished, comforted, and for forty days sup- 
plied him freely with all the necessaries and 
conveniences which his languishing condition 
could require. 

The soldier, thus happily rescued from 
death, was incessant in the warmest expres- 
sions of gratitude to his benefactor, assured 
him of his interest with the king, and of his 
power and resolution of obtaining for him, 
from the royal bounty, the noble returns 
which such extraordinary benevolence had 
merited. He was now completely recovered, 



and his kind host supplied him with money 
to pursue his journey. In some time after 
he presented himself before the king ; he 
recounted his misfortunes, magnified his ser- 
vices ; and this inhuman wretch, who had 
looked with an eye of envy on the possess- 
ions of the man who had preserved his Hfe,. 
was now so abandoned to all sense of grati- 
tude as to request that the king would 
bestow upon him the house and lands where 
he had been so tenderly and kindly enter- 
tained. 

Evil for Good. 

Unhappily, Philip, without examination,, 
inconsiderately and precipitately granted his 
infamous request ; and this soldier, now 
returned to his preserver, repaid his good- 
ness by driving him from his settlement, and 
taking immediate possession of all the fruits 
of his honest industry. The poor man,, 
stung with this instance of unparalleled in- 
gratitude and insensibility, boldly determined,, 
instead of submitting to his wrongs, to seek 
relief; and, in a letter addressed to Philip, 
represented his own and the soldier's conduct 
in a lively and affecting manner. 

The king was instantly fired with indigna- 
tion ; he ordered that justice should be done 
without delay ; that the possessions should 
be immediately restored to the man whose 
charitable offices had been thus horribly 
repaid ; and having seized the soldier, caused 
these words to be branded on his forehead. 
The Uitgratefid Guest ; a character infamous 
in every age and among all nations, but 
particularly among the Greeks, who from 
the earliest times were most scrupulously 
observant of the laws of hospitality. If all 
the foreheads that deserve to be branded with 
the mark of ingratitude had it burned there, 
many people would wear their hats very 
low on their heads. 





Hymn of Thanksgi^ 

^OR the blessings of the field, 
pt For the stores the gardens 

yield, 
For the vine's exalted juice. 
For the generous olive's use ; 

Flocks that whiten all the plain, 
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain. 
Clouds that drop their fattening 

dews, 
Suns that temperate warmth difiuse; 

All that Spring, with bounteous 

hand, 
Scatters o'er the smiling land ; 
All that liberal Autumn pours 
From her rich o'erflowing stores; 

These to Thee, my God, we owe — 
Source whence all our blessings 
flow ! 
And for these my soul shall raise 
Grateful vows and solemn praise. 

Yet should rising whirlwinds tear 
From its stem the ripening ear, 
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot 
Drop her green untimely fruit — 

Should the vine put forth no more, 
Nor the olive yield her store. 
Though the sickening flocks should fall, 
And the herds desert the stall — 

Should thine altered hand restrain 
The early and the latter rain, 
Blast each opening bud of joy. 
And the rising year destroy — 

Yet to Thee my soul should raise 
Grateful vows and solemn praise, 
And, when every blessing's flown. 
Love Thee — for Thyself alone. 

Anna Lcetitia Barbauld. 






h. 



384 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



Gratitude Personified. 

Here, as her home, from morn to eve frequents 
The cherub Gratitude ; behold her eyes ! 
With love and gladness weepingly they shed 
Ecstatic smiles ; the incense that her hands 
Uprear is sweeter than the breath of May 
Caught from the nectarine's blossoms, and her 

voice 
Is more than voice can tell ; to Him she sings, 
To Him who feeds, who clothes, and who adorns, 
"Who made, and who preserves whatever dwells 
In air, in steadfast earth, or fickle sea. 

Christopher Smart. 

A Fragrant Incense. 

When gratitude o'erflows the swelling heart, 
And breathes in free and uncorrupted praise 
For benefits received : propitious Heaven 
Takes such acknowledgment as fragrant incense. 
And doubles all its blessings. 

George IvIi,i,o. 

Mrs. Jameson writes: "Once, when I 
was at Vienna, there was a dread of hydro- 
phobia, and orders were given to massacre 
all the dogs which were found unclaimed or 
uncollared in the city or suburbs. Men were 
employed for- this purpose, and they gener- 
all carried a short heavy stick, which they 
flung at the poor proscribed animal with 
such certain aim as either to kill or maim it 
mortally at one blow. 

" It happened one day that, close to the 
edge of the river, near the Ferdinand's 
Briicke, one of these men flung his stick at a 
wretched dog, but with such bad aim that it 
fell into the river. The poor animal, follow- 
ing its instinct or its teaching, immediately 
plunged in, redeemed the stick, and laid it 
down at the feet of its owner, who, snatching 
it up, dashed out the creature's brains. I 
wonder what the Athenians would have done 
to such a man — they who banished the 
judge of the Areopagus because he flung 
away the bird which had sought shelter in 
his bosom." 

Gratitude may be improvident, as Wash- 



ington Irving points out in the case of 
Oliver Goldsmith. He intended to proceed 
to Paris and pursue his medical studies 
there, and was furnished by his friend with 
money for the journey. Unluckily, he ram- 
bled into the garden of a florist just before 
quitting Leyden. The tulip mania was still 
prevalent in Holland, and some species of 
that splendid flower brought immense prices. 
In wandering through the garden Goldsmith 
recollected that his Uncle Contarine was a 
tulip-fancier. 

The thought suddenly struck him that 
here was an opportunity of testifying, in a 
delicate manner, his sense of that generous 
uncle's past kindnesses. In an instant his 
hand was in his pocket ; a number of choice 
and costly tulip roots were purchased and 
packed up for Mr. Contarine; and it was not 
until he had paid for them that he bethought 
himself that he had spent all the money bor- 
rowed for his traveling expenses. 

He Traveled on Foot, 
Too proud, however, to give up his jour- 
ney, and too shamefaced to make another 
appeal to his friend's liberality, he determined 
to travel on foot, and depend upon chance 
and good-luck for the means of getting for- 
ward ; and it is said that he actually set off 
on a tour of the Continent, in February, 
1755, with but one spare shirt, a flute, and i 
single guinea. 

Among the many stories told of President 
Lincoln the following deserves a worthy 
place : Hon. Thaddeus Stevens called with 
an elderly lady in great trouble, whose son 
had been in the army, but for some offence 
had been court-martialed and sentenced 
either to death or imprisonment. After a 
full hearing, the President proceeded to exe- 
cute the paper granting pardon. The grati- 
tude of the mother was too deep for expres- 



GRATITUDE. 



385 



sion, save by her tears, and not a word was 
said between her and Mr. Stevens until they 
were half way down the stairs when she 
suddenly broke forth in an excited manner 
with the words, " I knew it was a copper- 
head lie ! " " What do you refer to, madam ? " 
asked Mr. Stevens. " Why, they told me he 
was an ugly-looking man," she replied, with 
vehemence. " He is the handsomest man I 
ever saw in my life ! " 

The Prophet's Reply. 

It is related that a Bedouin woman, 
mounted on a dromedary, ran toward Ma- 
homet. "The enemy," said she, "have 
i'.eized upon my flock, that I was pasturing 
in the desert; I mounted this dromedary, 
and made a vow to immolate it in your 
presence to God should I succeed in escaping 
through its speed. I come to fulfil the 
vow." " But," said the prophet, smiling, 
•" would it not be ingratitude to the generous 
animal to whom thou owest thy safety? 
Thy vow is null, because it is unjust; the 
animal which thou has consecrated to me is 
thine no more, it is mine ; I gave it in trust 
to thee ; go and console thy family." 

Few incidents are more pathetic than one 
narrated in our nation's early annals. Dur- 
ing our Revolutionary War, eighty old 
German soldiers, who, after having long 
served under different monarchs in Europe, 
had retired to America and converted their 
swords into plowshares, voluntarily formed 
themselves into a company, and distinguished 
themselves in various actions in the cause of 
Independence. The captain was nearly one 
hundred years, had been in the army forty 
years, and present in seventeen battles. The 
drummer was ninety-four, and the youngest 
man in the corps on the verge of seventy. 

Instead of a cockade, each man wore a 
piece of black crape, as a mark of sorrow for 



being obhged, at so advanced a period of 
hfe, to bear arms. " But," said the veterans, 
" we should be deficient in gratitude, if we 
did not act in defense of a country which has 
afforded us a generous asylum, and protected 
us from tyranny and oppression." Such a 
band of soldiers never before perhaps ap- 
peared on the field of battle. 

How delightful the ability as well as the 
disposition to confer favors ! What pleasure 
it must afford the rich and the powerful to 
relieve the wants and soothe the sufferings of 
the poor! The recollection of such conduct 
is calculated to sweeten every hour of after 
existence. What reflections could be more 
felicitous than those caused by having rescued 
some erring child of humanity from a down- 
ward career — having brightened the hearth 
of some lonely and impoverished widow — 
having averted the bankruptcy of some friend 
-^having tendered a loan at the moment it 
was least expected and most desired — having 
appeared as a messenger of generosity and 
joy; when, to the sufferer, all the world 
seemed mercenary and heartless! 

Tears of Gratitude. 
The " Pleasures of Philanthropy" are yet 
to be described. But volumes might be 
produced by some competent mind and 
heart upon such a fruitful subject. We once 
happened to enter the sick chamber of an 
estimable citizen, who had been unable, in 
consequence of severe illness, to attend to his 
business affairs for some weeks. We found 
his wife overcome by some sudden act of kind- 
ness, and shedding tears of gratitude and 
joy. We inquired the cause, and ascertained 
that a neighbor who had called before had 
just paid a visit, and, apprehensive that the 
pecuniary affairs of the sick man might be 
in some confusion, he had made a generous 
tender of his purse, satisfied, he said, that all 



386 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



would be well again in a short time, but 
anxious to prevent distress under any cir- 
cumstances. 

The relief was not needed, but the act was 
so full of touching and disinterested kindness, 
that the wife was quite overcome, and show- 
ered blessings upon the head of the worthy 
individual referred to. This was, indeed, 
true benevolence, genuine liberality — a golden 
deed among the many hollow and sounding 
acts of this working-day world. It is con- 
duct like this that elevates our race — allies 
the nature of man to that of superior beings. 

They Avoid Display. 

And such cases are by no means rare. 
They seldom find ' their way into the public 
prints, for the truly benevolent are modest 
and retiring, and shrink from all display and 
ostentation. When they give, they do so 
quietly, satisfied with the consciousness of 
doing good. 

But, alas ! for the weakness and the vicious- 
ness of human nature. How often does it 
happen that favors are sources of anxiety 
rather than of pleasure, because of the 
ingratitude of mankind. How often do they 
convert friends into enemies, make individuals 
hate their benefactors, simply because of that 
vicious, selfish passion of the human heart, 
which, under a sense of obligation, begets 
a feeling of rancor even amongst the most 
intimate friends. 

Do you not know such cases, gentle 
reader? Have you not experienced this 
strange perversity ? Can you not call to 
mind some individual who is indebted to 
you for a kindness, a favor, a loan, and who 
has grown colder and colder from day to 
day and from year to year, until he is now 
an enemy rather than a friend ? Have you 
not also seen cases in which the obhgation, 
at first regarded as kindly and generous in 



an eminent degree, was afterward derided, 
contemned, and attributed to improper 
motives ? 

What fiend is more marble-hearted than 
Ingratitude? How strange it is that indi- 
viduals so circumstanced can revile or assail 
their benefactors ? How dark and deplor- 
able a feature of the human heart! And 
yet its existence how few will deny! The 
ungrateful man is, indeed, a disgrace to 
hum.anity. He is neither entitled to sym- 
pathy nor respect. He not only injuries 
himself, but he excites distrust as to mankind 
at large, and checks the hand of generosity 
when about to act in the most liberal spirit. 

A Quick Response. 

But all, thank Heaven! are not so. All 
do not yield to this demon of our evil nature. 
There are many who <i:e grateful for the 
smallest favors, who appreciate and remem- 
ber acts of kindness and goodwill till the 
latest hour of existence. Nothing so de- 
lights them as an opportunity to reciprocate. 
They are never so happy as when acknowl- 
edging and repaying a kindness. They are 
true to the best impulses of generosity and 
justice, and they love their fellow-creatures 
with a spirit of brotherhood and affection. 

We have known individuals who years 
after some slight favor had been conferred, 
and when it was forgotten by the benefactor, 
returned it gladly and eagerly a hundred fold. 
The cup of water given in the right spirit to 
the beggar who knocks at our door, the 
crumb that falls from the table, the alms, 
however, trifling — all have their uses and 
their reward. Let no one be deterred from 
the exercise of charity, because in his pro- 
gress through life he has encountered many 
an instance of black ingratitude. Let not 
the innocent suffer for the guilty ! 

We hold to the faith that no act of hu- 



GRATITUDE. 



387 



manity, no word of kindness, no smiie of 
benevolence, is altogether valueless or lost. 
We may not see the effect to-day. It may 
escape our observation entirely. But it will, 
nevertheless, have existence. It is our duty, 
at least, to act in a generous, a benevolent 
and a Christian spirit, satisfied that there is 
One who penetrates far deeper than any 
human foresight and notes not only every 
deed, but every thought of the great human 
family. 

Unselfish Givers. 

It is not too much to say that the majority 
of people are too slow in expressing grati- 
tude for favors received. They are willing 
to get the benefits and frequently willing to 
take them as if they had a right to them. 
When it comes to real thankfulness they 
halt or they forget. There are few, indeed, 
who have not at one time or another 
received favors which placed them under 
immense obligations to the giver. That 
giver may not have been selfish, may not 
have expected any return, may have be- 
stowed kindness as freely as the bursting 
fountain cools your lip, yet why should not 
gratitude be his reward ? And how much 
more noble to be thankful and express the 
thankfulness ! 

This nation of ours owes a tremendeous 
debt of gratitude to the heroes and patriots 
who have made it what it is. Their memory 
should be cherished ; more than this, during 
the life of such men they should receive the 
gratitude that is their due. A^fter they pass 
into history, after their majestic figures are 
seen among us no more, and we begin to 
understand the great loss we have sustained, 
then we talk about their virtues, we puff 
them in newspapers, we tell of their achieve- 
ments, and put up a monument here and 
there on some corner of the street to pre- 



serve the memory of their brilliant deeds 
and express our national gratitude. Would 
it not be well to let them know while living 
how much they are appreciated ? 

Ingratitude to Public Men. 

Lincoln dies, and is borne away to his 
grave with funeral pomp, and the road he 
travels in death is strewn with flowers and 
warmed with tears. Yet what harsh criti- 
cisms, what sharp attacks, what sullen dis- 
approval he was compelled to meet. There 
was an attempt to recompense General 
Grant during his life for services he had ren- 
dered. Something has been said about a 
house in St. Louis, and another in Philadel- 
phia. Yet all that was done for him and all 
that was done by southern states for their 
great generals and statesmen does not dis- 
prove the old sad saying that " republics are 
ungrateful." A score of men have died in 
as many years who in Great Britian would 
have been titled and placed among the num- 
ber of those whose glorious deeds are ap- 
preciated and rewarded. After all, let us not 
forget that they are the greatest who toil and 
suffer and practice self-denial for its own 
sake. They have an inward satisfaction, and 
this is their recompense. Let us learn the 
lesson of faithful duty and honest service, 
even if we are never cheered by one emotion 
of gratitude from those around us. Then, 
we shall suffer no disappointments. The 
consciousness that we have acted well our 
part will be sufficient. Let us be like that 
teacher who had two pupils with opposite 
dispositions ; one was a bullet-headed boy 
of tough fibre, dull of brain and sullen in 
disposition, who, in addition to slighting all 
his lessons, took every occasion to annoy 
his teacher and make her work unpleasant. 
The other was an affectionate and sensitivt 
girl who greeted her every morning with a 



388 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



smile and some little gift of flowers plucked 
from the garden or the wayside. Her whole 
deportment seemed to say " I thank you for 
your kindness and all you are doing for me." 
Yet in the gloomy hour of sickness the 
teacher wished especially to see that boy. 
He came by her request. She seemed to 
have forgotten all his waywardness. She 
said nothing of his misconduct. She looked 
into his eyes and told him of her interest 
and love. Very grateful to her were the 
little gifts one pupil had bestowed, and no 
less grateful was the softening of that boy's 
heart. In his rough way he said : "Thank 
you, teacher; you've been very good to 
me." This was the turning-point in that 
boy's life, and he might never have reached 
it if his teacher had not known how to work 
>on regardless of reward. 

Carries its Own Reward. 

The sense of gratitude, the feeling that it 
sTiould be cherished and expressed is com- 
mon to all persons ; it is born with us and 
it may truly be said is one of the finest ele- 
ments of character. 

There is a not a more pleasing exercise of 
the mind than gratitude. It is accompanied 
■with such an inward satisfaction that the 
•duty is sufficiently rewarded by the perform- 
ance. It is not, like the practice of many 
other virtues, difficult and painful, but att'en- 
•ded with so much pleasure, that were there 
Tio positive command which enjoined it, nor 
■any recompense laid up for it hereafter, 
a generous mind would indulge in it for the 
natural gratification that accompanies it. 

If gratitude is due from man to man, how 
much more from man to his Maker ! The 
Supreme Being does not confer us those 
bounties which proceed more immediately 
from his hand, but even those benefits which 
are conveyed to us by others. Every bless- 



ing we enjoy, by what means soever it may 
be derived upon us, is the gift of Him who is 
the Author of good and Father of mercies. 
If gratitude when exerted towards another 
naturally produces a very pleasing sensation 
in the mind of a grateful man, it exalts the 
soul into rapture when it is employed on this 
great object of gratitude, on this beneficent 
Being who has given us everything we 
already possess, and from whom we expect 
everything we yet hope for. 

Instinct of Gratitude. 

He that has nature in him must be grateful 
'Tis the Creator's primary great law, 
That links the chain of beings to each other, 
Joining the greater to the lesser nature, 
Tying the weak and strong, the poor and powerful. 
Subduing men to brutes, and even brutes to men. 
Samuei^ Madan. 

Why should not the heart be always 
thankful, for there is a faith which all may 
possess that assures us our lives are well 
ordered and protected. 

All's for the Best. 

All's for the best ! be sanguine and cheerful. 

Troubles and sorrows are friends in disguise. 
Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearful. 

Courage forever is happy and wise ; 
All's for the best — if a man could but know it 

Providence wishes us all to be blest ; 
This is no dream of the pundit or poet. 

Heaven is gracious, and all's for the best ! 

All's for the best ! set this on your standard, 

Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love, 
Who to the shores of despair may have wandered, 

A wayfaring swallow or heart-stricken dove. 
All's for the best ! be a man, but confiding, 

Providence tenderly governs the rest. 
And the frail bark of his creatures is guiding, 

Wisely and warily, all's for the best ! 

All's for the best ! then fling away terrors. 
Meet ail your fears and loss in the van. 

And in the midst of your dangers or errors, 
Trust like a child, while you strive like a man. 



GRATITUDE. 



All's for the best ! unbiassed, unbounded, 
Providence reigns from the east to the west, 

And by both wisdom and mercy surrounded, 
Hope and be happy, for all's for the best ! 

A fine example of royal gratitude was that 
of Charles II, related by Hood in his " Life 
of Cromwell." Richard Penderel, Charles 
introduced to his Court, saying, " The sim- 
plest rustic who serves his sovereign in the 
time of need to the utmost extent of his 
abiHty i.= as deserving of our commendation 
as the victorious leader of thousands. 
Friend Richard," continued the king, " I 
am glad to see thee ; thou wert my pre- 
server and conductor, the bright star that 
showed me to my Bethlehem, for which 
kindness I will engrave thy memory on the 
tablet of a faithful heart." Turning to the 
lords, the king said, " My lords, I pray you 
respect this good man for my sake. Master 
Richard, be bold and tell these lords what 
passed among us when I had quitted the 
oak at Boscobel to reach Pit Leason." 
When Charles had been defeated he was 
aided in making his escape to France by 
Penderel 

There is an old fable of a man who saw 
an adder lying on the ground, benumbed 
with cold and nearly dead. His pity was 
moved and he thought he would try and 
save the reptile's life. He took it up, placed 
it in his bosom and soon restored it by the 
warmth of his own body. What did the 
reptile do then but turn upon its benefactor, 
strike its poisonous fangs into his breast and 
give him a death-wound? The one who had 



saved the life of the venomous adder lost his 
own. 

The old fable gives this as an illustration 
of ingratitude. You can see at a glance its 
truthfulness and force. How many there 
are who have received undeserved benefits, 
and then, with, the demonish .spirit of malice, 
turn and rend their benefactors. This is not 
human. It is the spirit of the adder which, 
having received the kindness of the one 
who sought to save its life, buried its fangs 
in the very bosom that warmed it. 

To be thankful is not only pleasant to the 
one who has bestowed the gift ; it is a sweet 
satisfaction to the one who is grateful. This 
disposition is among those virtues the exer- 
cise of which has been ordained for our 
inward satisfaction and peace. We are thus 
placed on a level with the noblest characters 
and our life blossoms into beauty. May a 
kind Providence save us from ever being 
chilled by ingratitude. What the frost is 
to the violet and the lily, an unthankful 
spirit is to our best endeavors and intentions. 

The great master of the human heart, 
Shakespeare, exclaims, " Ingratitude thou 
marble-hearted fiend ! " And again: "How 
sharper than a serpent's teeLh it is to have a 
thankless child." No one will dispute the 
truth here stated ; it i.i recognized in all the 
walks of life. Gratitude is an angel that 
flies with wings, and whose face wears the 
smile of heaven. Ingratitude is a demon, 
dark and malicious, from whom all noble 
natures recoil. It throws a shadow over 
every hfe that comes within its influence.. 




SELF-SACRIFICE. 



390 



chapte:r XXV. 

SELF=SACRIFICE. 



^J^^^^r OU cannot gain without giving, 
v?^^^^^/^ You cannot obtain without ex- 
"^/■\Cv pending. You must sacrifice 
^§^^^c^ yourself if you would make the 
jf^' most of yourself. There is a 

general law in the world which 
requires a yielding up, an outlay before the 
best things, before anything, indeed, can be 
brought to pass. There is a cost that is 
always demanded; there is an expenditure 
that must be made. 

The illustrations of this principle are on 
•every side of us. Bread is one of our most 
common articles of food. Kingdoms are 
Icingdoms because of bread. "It is the staff 
of hfe." It enters into blood and brain. 
We get the bread from flour, flung from the 
hiopper of the noisy mill. It comes from 
wheat, and what does wheat come from? 
It costs a seed to get a stalk of wheat, and 
that seed must give itself, must go into the 
ground and die. It cannot save itself; the 
attempt would make it a useless thing. Take 
this country of ours and other countries 
together, and millions of acres of wheat are 
sown in the autumn. The seed, the dying 
seed — withhold that, and you would cut off 
the next year's harvest. Save all the kernels 
■of the grape, never plant any, and no new 
vine with tangled tendrils and purple clusters 
would ever grow. It takes the plough and 
harrow, the soaking rains and gentle sun- 
shine, to get a field of wheat. More than 
this, it takes the dying seed. 

There is a law in the universe that things 
must be sacrificed before they can show what 



is in them and what they are good for ; 
nothing can be gained, nothing can be done 
without cost. 

How do you think the surrounding coun- 
try looked when William Penn sailed up the 
Delaware? A wilderness then, its paths 
trodden by the red men, its tree-tops the 
home of the eagle. Then the gloom of the 
deep wild forest — now the beauty of the 
landscape! Then the bark villages of the 
Indian — now the throbbing life of busy 
cities ! It has cost something to make the 
transformation ; there has been a tremendous 
outlay. It has cost time and labor and 
money. The iron and steel gave themselves 
for the ax ; the men gave the strength of 
arm that swung it. The trees gave them- 
selves that there might be a harvest, and so, 
too, the rich soil gave itself. Think what 
cutting, slashing, upturning, ploughing, sow- 
ing, building, cultivating, there must have 
been — think what forces of brain and arm, 
and unceasing toil, were engaged to tran;;- 
figure this land and make it so fair. And 
here it is true again that to get something, 
something must be given. 

Self Cannot be Favored. 

It is wonderful how this one thought that 
things cannot be saved, that they must give 
themselves up, runs through everything. 
Would you have a successful business? It 
will cost you care and anxiety, labor and 
capital; you cannot save yourself. Would 
you be a scholar? It will cost you the 
closest study and application, and perhaps 

391 



392 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



many a headache and weary hour. Would 
you be a fine piano player? It will cost you 
unremitting practice and steady perseverance; 
and even then, perhaps, yon will feel like 
telling people that you never play. Would 
you be a stenographer and able to catch the 
burning thoughts that flow from the lips of 
the orator? Or would you be the orator 
holding listening thousands spellbound? 
Your time, your effort, your earnestness of 
purpose alone can do it. There must always 
be an outlay. There is no escaping the cost. 
Sacrifice is th^, grand secret of success. 

Alexander's Thirsty Army. 

When the army of Alexander the Great 
was marching against Darius, in crossing the 
deserts they often suffered more for want of 
water than by fatigue; many of the cavalry 
were unable to hold out. While they were 
upon the march some Macedonians had 
filled their bottles at a river, and were bring- 
ing the water upon mules. These people, 
seeing Alexander greatly distressed with 
thirst (for it was in the heat of the day), 
immediately filled a helmet with water, and 
presented it to him. 

He asked them to whom they were carry- 
ing it, and they said, "Our sons; but if our 
prince does but live, we shall get other chil- 
dren, if we lose them." Upon this he took 
the helmet in his hands; but looking round, 
and seeing all the horsemen bending their 
heads, and fixing their eyes upon the water, 
he returned it without drinking. However, 
he praised the people that offered it, and 
said, "If I alone drink, these good men will 
be dispirited." The cavalry, who were wit- 
nesses to this act of temperance and mag- 
nanimity, cried out, " Let us march ! We 
are neither weary nor thirsty, nor shall we 
even think ourselves mortal, while under the 
conduct of such a king." . At the same time 



they put spurs to their horses and dash ; 
away with fresh courage. 

Says Atterbury : "A good man not only 
forbears those gratifications which are for- 
bidden by reason and religion, but even 
restrains himself in unforbidden instances." 

Says Robert Hall: "The opportunities ot 
making great sacrifices for the good of man- 
kind are of rare occurrence, and he who 
remains inactive till it is in his power to 
confer signal benefits or yield important 
services is in. imminent danger of incurring 
the doom of the slothful servant. It is the 
preference of duty to inclination in the ordi- 
nary course of life, it is the practice of self- 
denial in a thousand little instances, which 
forms the truest test of character, and secures 
the honor and the reward of those who live 
not to themselves." 

Teach self-denial, and make its practice 
pleasurable, and you create for the world a 
destiny more sublime than ever issued from 
the brain of the wildest dreamer. 

Giving and Living. 

Forever the sun is pouring his gold 

On a hundred woiflds that beg and borrow ; 

His warmth he squanders on summits cold, 
His wealth, on the homes of want and sorrow. 

To withhold his largess of precious light 

Is to bury himself in eternal night : 

To give is to live. 

The flower shines not for itself at all, 

Its joy is the joy it freely diffuses ; 
Of beauty and balm it is prodigal. 

And it lives in the life it sweetly loses. 
No choice for the rose but glory or doom — 
To exhale or smother, to wither or bloom : 

To deny is to die. 

The seas lend silvery rain to the land, 

The laud its sapphire streams to the ocean ; 

The heart sends blood to the brain of commapd, 
The brain to the heart its constant motion ; 

And over and over we yield our breath — 

Till the mirror is dry and images death : 

To live is to gire. 



SELF-SACRIFICE. 



393 



He IS dead whose hand is not opened wide 
To help the need of sister or brother ; 

He doubles the worth of his life-long ride 
Who gives his fortunate place to another ; 

Not one, but a thousand lives are his 

Who carries the world in his sympathies : 

To deny is to die. 

Throw gold to the far-dispersing wave, 

, And your ships sail home with tons of treasure ; 

Care not for comfort, all hardships brave. 

And evening and age shall sup with pleasure ; 
Fling health to the sunshine, wind and rain, 
And roses shall come to the cheek again : 

To give is to live. 

Says Sir Walter Scott . " There never did 
and never v/ill exist anything permanently 
noble and excellent in a character which was 
a stranger to the exercise of resolute self- 
denial." 

But if there were no such consideration as 
the good effect which self-denial has upon 
the sense of other men towards us, it is of 
all qualities the most desirable for the agree- 
able disposition in which it places our own 
minds. I cannot tell what better to say of 
it than that it is the very contrary of ambi- 
tion ; and that modesty allays all those pas- 
sions and inquietudes to which that vice ex- 
poses us. 

How Pleasures are Doubled. 

He that is moderate in his wishes, from 
reason and choice, and not resigned from 
sourness, distate or disappointment, doubles 
all the pleasures of his life. The air, the 
season, a sunshiny day, or a fair prospect, 
are instances of happiness ; and that which 
he enjoys in common with all the world (by 
his exemption from the enchantments by 
which all the world are bewitched), are to 
him uncommon benefits and new acquisi-. 
tions. Health is not eaten up with care, nor 
pleasure interrupted by envy. 

The great foundation of civil virtue is self- 
denial : and there is no one above the neces- 



sities of life, but has opportunities of exer- 
cising that noble quality, and doing as much 
as his circumstances will bear for the ease and 
convenience of other men ; and he who does 
more than ordinary men practice upon such 
occasions as occur in his life, deserves the 
value of his friends, as if he had done enter- 
prises which are usually attended with the 
brightest glory. Men of public spirit differ 
rather in their circumstances than their 
virtue ; and the man who does all he can, in 
a low station, is more a hero than he who 
omits any worthy action he is able to accom- 
plish in a great one. 

He Caught the Contagion. 

The great philanthropist, John Howard, 
literally died in the act of showing forth his 
self-sacrificing spirit. A lady some distance 
away was very ill, and wished to see him. 
Being sent for, he was determined to go. 
The rain was falling in torrents — a cold 
December rain — and the wind was blowing 
a gale. As he could not, without much 
delay, procure a vehicle, he mounted an old 
dray horse and rode the twenty-four miles 
through the tempest. He arrived to find 
his patient dying of hospital fever. He 
tried, however, some powerful medicines 
upon her, with a view to excite perspiration ; 
and, in order to ascertain whether they were 
producing the wished-for-efifect, he lifted the 
bedclothes and felt of her arm. 

As he did so, the effluvia from her body 
was so offensive that he could scarcely en- 
dure it. She died soon after, and he returned 
to Cherson. Three days later he was seized 
with the same fever. The exhaustion cf his 
long and painful ride, and the shock to his 
feelings at finding his patient in the agonies 
of death, had rendered his system liable to 
the contagion, which had struck him, as he 
believed, at the moment of his lifting the 



394 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



bedclothes. Yet he did not regret his efforts 
to befriend a poor, dying woman. 

Macaulay pays a glowing tribute to the 
Jesuits who risked their lives in the effort to 
minister to those who were stricken with a 
plague : " When in our time a new and ter- 
rible pestilence passed round the globe ; 
when in some great cities fear had dissolved 
all the ties which hold society together; 
when the secular clergy had deserted their 
flocks ; when medical succor was not to be 
purchased by gold ; when the strongest 
natural affections had yielded to the love of 
life, even then the Jesuit was found by the 
pallet which bishop and curate, physician 
and nurse, father and mother had deserted, 
bending over infected lips to catch the faint 
accents of confession, and holding up to the 
last, before the expiring penitent, the image 
of the expiring Redeemer." 

Grecian Patriotism. 

The pages of history are luminous and 
bright with examples of self-sacrifice. It 
shines out boldly in every great national 
crisis. The story of Greece, her victories 
and achievements, is one glowing tribute to 
this principle. The world will never cease 
to wonder at the valor which has made 
Thermopylae one of the most famous names 
in history. Tennyson has celebrated in 
song the headlong charge of the six hun- 
dred. 

Cannon to right of them, 

Cannon to left of them 

Volleyed and thundered ; 

Into the jaws of death 

Rode the six hundred. 

But history affords no such record as that 
of the three hundred who not only risked 
but gave their lives in defence of Greece. I 
am not eager to applaud battle deeds, yet 
there are times when patriotism rises to the 



height of sublimity, and the man who dares 
and suffers is earth's grandest hero. 

And, speaking of the ancient Greeks, a 
sentiment prevailed among them which 
taught that self must be ignored for the 
public good, and home and country were 
worth dying for. In Sparta, Lycurgus taught 
his citizens to think nothing more disagree- 
able than to live by (or for) themselves. 
Like bees, they acted with one impulse for 
the public good, and always assembled 
about their prince. They were possessed 
with a thirst of honor and enthusiasm bor- 
dering upon insanity, and had not a wish 
but for their country. These sentiments are 
confirmed by some of their aphorisms. 
When Paedaretus lost his election for one of 
the three hundred, he went away rejoicing 
that there were three hundred better men 
than himself found in the city. Pisistratides 
going with some others, ambassador to the 
King of Persia's lieutenants, was asked 
whether they came with a public commis- 
sion or on their own account, to which he 
answered, " If successful, for the public ; if 
unsuccessful, for ourselves." 

A Virginian Hero. 

Mr. Bancroft, in his history of the United 
States, pays a handsome tribute to one of 
the forerunners of the American Revolution, 
a man who had the courage of his convic- 
tions, and did not count the cost of standing 
manfully by them. This man was Thomas 
Hansford, who was accounted a rebel in 
1676, a hundred years before the Declara- 
tion of Independence. He stoutly denied 
that what was charged on him as rebellion 
was anything less than a duty and the 
noblest virtue. He was apprehended, tried 
and convicted. It was not the most politic 
thing to condemn him to death, for it might 
have been known that this act would create 



596 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



sympathy for him and would be the fruitful 
seed from which a host of brave spirits 
would spring. 

The day of his execution arrived. " Take 
notice," said he, as he came to the gibbet, 
" I die a loyal subject and a lover of my 
country." That country was Virginia. Says 
Bancroft: "Hansford perished, the first 
native American on the gallows, a martyr 
to the right of the people to govern them- 
selves." 

Pointed to His own House. 

Virginia furnished another noble soul who 
illustrates the same spirit ; this was Thomas 
Nelson, governor of the state. The British 
troops were occupying Yorktown, which 
was besieged by the Revolutionary army. 
Governor Nelson had his residence at York- 
town, and one would suppose that he would 
have been anxious to protect it. The Fed- 
eral troops were bombarding the town, when 
General Lafayette said to Nelson, " To what 
particular spot would your Excellency direct 
that we point the cannon?" "There," 
promptly replied the noble-minded patriot — 
" to that house ; it is mine and is the best 
one you can find in the town ; there you 
will be most certain to find Lord Cornwallis 
and the British headquarters." This incident 
is narrated in Custis' hfe of Washington, a 
volume which contains many thrilling anec- 
dotes that show the self-sacrificing spirit of 
those early heroes who by their toils and 
sufferings laid the foundation of our national 
life and glory. 

As reference has often been made to Wash- 
ington, it is appropriate to quote here a ref- 
erence to him by the historian Knight. It 
is as follows : " When George Washington 
accepted his commission from the Conti- 
nental Congress as commander-in-chief of 
the American army he said no pecuniary 



consideration could have tempted him to 
accept this arduous employment at the ex- 
pense of his domestic ease and happiness ; 
he had no desire to make a profit by it. He 
would take no pay. He would keep an 
exact account of his expenses, and those he 
doubted not would be discharged." 

Here the true spirit of the great com- 
mander and " Father of His Country " 
shines resplendently forth. Not taking him- 
self into account, not asking what would be 
his personal gain, not seeking any selfish 
advantage, believing that the holy cause was 
worth more than any man's life, he staked 
all, and, if he had been unwiUing to do it, 
he never could have been George Washing- 
ton. While men chisel marble, while poets 
sing and hearts are thrilled by noble deeds, 
the names of those who by self-denial and 
faithful service gave to this land of ours its 
multiferious blessings and splendid oppor- 
tunities will be wreathed with fame and 
cherished with gratitude. 

Cradle of Our Nation. 

In the old Independence Hall in Philadel- 
phia there is a portrait gallery of the founders 
of the nation. The venerable Hall is a 
shrine to which a crowd of feet is always 
pressing. Here old and young alike stand 
in hush of spirit, and gaze upon the nation's 
memorials. It is a sacred spot. Here is the 
cradle in which the republic was rocked. 
Why should persons from every part of the 
land visit this famous building and look with 
awe upon the faces hung upon its walls, 
except for the spirit of sacrifice and devotion 
associated with these men of Revolutionary 
fame ? We give to them our heart's homage, 
because they gave all for liberty. 

Before passing from these historic exam- 
ples let me mention one from the historian 
Gibbon. It is related by him that the Sara- 



SELF-SACRIFICE. 



597 



cens besieged the cities of Beneventum and 
Capua ; after a vain appeal to the successors 
of Charlemagne, the Lombards implored the 
clemency and aid of the Greek emperor. A 
fearless citizen dropped from the walls, passed 
theintrenchments, accomplished his commis- 
sion,, and fell into the hands of the bar- 
barians as he was returning with the welcome 
news. They commanded him to assist their 
enterprise, and deceive his countrymen, with 
the assurance that wealth and honors should 
be the reward of his falsehood, and that his 
sincerity would be punished with immediate 
death. 

Stabbed by a Hundred Spears. 

He affected to yield, but as soon as he 
was conducted within hearing of the Chris- 
tians on the rampart, "Friends and breth- 
ren," he cried, with a loud voice, "be bold 
and patient ; maintain the city ; your sover- 
eign is informed of your distress, and your 
deliverers are at hand. I know my doom, 
and commit my wife and children to your 
gratitude." The rage of the Arabs con- 
firmed his evidence ; ai)d the self-devoted 
patriot was transpierced with a hundred 
spears. 

A recent author, speaking of Prince Bis- 
marck, says : " He adopted it as the aim of 
his pubhc life to snatch Germany from 
Austrian oppression," and to gather round 
Prussia, in a North German Confederation, 
all the States '•' whose tone of thought, relig- 
ion, manners, and interests " were in harmony 
with those of Prussia. " To attain this end," 
he once said in conversation, " I would brave 
all dangers — exile, the scaffold itself ! What 
matter if they hang me, provided the rope 
by which I am hung binds this new Germany 
firmly to the Prussian throne !" 

Here is one main secret of Bismarck's 
power, and his position and influence in the 



affairs of Europe. He was more than king; 
armies were less than he ; great national 
transactions took place by his consent; at 
his nod empires shook, all because Bismarck 
was nothing, and the welfare of his Father- 
land was everything. No self-seeking man 
conniving, contriving, ambitious, plotting, 
begging favor, nursing his own interests, ever 
could have reached the pinnacle of power on 
which he stood. You are not a prince, 
except in that noble sense that you are a 
prince of toil. You carry sunburned hands 
and wear clothes which have about them the 
odor of the factory or the farm, but in your 
sphere, wherever you find it, you can rise 
above yourself and by giving you can gain. 
The poet, WiUiam Wordsworth, is widely 
known by many of his productions, one 
especially. Its title is " Ode to Duty." 
Two of its lines are well worth quoting 
here : 

Give unto me, made lowly wise, 
The spirit of self-sacrifice. 

Neither Wordsworth nor any one else 
could write a eulogy upon duty, present- 
ing it in its truest and noblest character, and 
leave out that self-sacrifice which makes the 
man who shows it more than man and 
renders the world a better world. 

None Live to Themselves. 
God has written upon the flower that 
sweetens the air, upon the breeze that rocks 
the flower upon its stem, upon the raindrops 
that swell the mighty river, upon the dew- 
drops that refresh the smallest sprig of moss 
that rears its head in the desert, upon the 
ocean that rocks every swimmer in its chan- 
nel, upon every penciled shell that sleeps in 
the caverns of the deep, as well as upon the 
mighty sun which warms and cheers the 
millions of creatures that live in his lis^ht — ■ 



39S 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



upon all he has written, " None of us liveth 
to himself." 

Do you think it possible to understand 
how much better and brighter the world is 
by reason of self-sacrifice ? In one of our 
eastern towns there once lived a lady, who 
was familiarly called the " Mother of the 
Neighborhood." It was worth something 
to live in the neighborhood where this 
woman performed her deeds of charity. She 
was physically a noble speciman of woman- 
hood. Health and strength were among her 
enviable possessions. She could watch over 
the sick all night, and attend to her house- 
hold duties during the day. 

Beloved by All. 

It may as well be stated that she never 
neglected her own affairs, never was absent 
from her own kitchen or parlor, never failed 
to dust a piece of furniture, because largely 
devoting her life to the good of others. She 
was the admiration of all ; more than this, 
she was beloved. The poor, yes, the rich 
knew where to find a friend. It was as 
natural for her to bring sunlight and hope 
into dark dwellings as it was to breathe — no 
effort, no trouble, no holding back, but a 
free generous giving of self wherever her 
gracious presence was needed. If there was 
a weary heart, a sick child, a poor sufferer 
from any cause — if misfortune had over- 
taken any family, there the " Mother of the 
Neighborhood" was to be found. 

She was not an authoress. She never pre- 
sided at female conventions. She never 
made a speech in public — or rather her 
beautiful life was one long utterance which 
was more eloquent than speech. She was 
just a plain, sensible, every day sort of a 
woman. There was something about her 
which seemed to say, " If I can help you, 
nothing would give me greater pleasure." 



And so, by her kindly deeds, she found a 
place in all hearts. Be assured that no po- 
sition was more to be coveted than that of 
this plain sympathetic " Mother of the 
Neighborhood." Her biography has never 
been written except here. Nor is it needful 
that it should be ; the best writing is that 
which is made on human hearts. It is use- 
less to attempt to eulogize such a woman or 
praise her virtues. The pen is too cold and 
the ink is too thin. Those who knew her 
and whose lives had been warmed by the 
sunshine of her face and the love of her 
great soul, are the living monuments to this 
"Mother of the Neighborhood." 

Grander than Queen. 
Do not think for a moment I am drawing 
a fancy sketch. This lady was once real 
flesh and blood. When she was translated, 
when she passed through what we name 
death — rather, when she entered into life, a 
shadow fell and that neighborhood was 
darkened. She might have been called 
queen, she might have graced courts with 
her beauty and her jewels, but to be called 
the "Mother of the Neighborhood," was a 
grander tribute than would have been the 
name of queen. And so it comes about that 
the real heroines are to be found in everyc'ay 
life. They are all about you. You do not 
have to advertise to discover them. You do 
not have to travel to overtake them. 

Carving a Name. 

I wrote my name upon the sand. 
And trusted it would stand for aye ; 

But soon, alas ! the refluent sea 
Had washed my feeble lines away. 

I carved my name upon the wood, 

And, after years, returned again ; 
I missed the shadow of the tree 

That stretched of old upon the plain. 

To solid marble next my name 
I gave as a perpetual trust ; 



SELF-SACRIFICE. 



■699 



An earthquake rent it to its base, 
And now it lies o'erlaid with dust. 

All these have failed. In wiser mood 
I turn and ask myself, " What then ? 

If I would have my name endure, 
I'll write it on the hearts of men. 

" ' In characters of living light, 

From kindly words and actions wrought ; 
And these, beyond the reach of time, 
Chall live immortal as my thought.' " 

Horatio Alger. 

History and poetry celebrate no sublimer 
act of devotion than that of Albert G. 
Drecker, the watchman of the Passaic River 
drawbridge on the New York and Newark 
Railroad. The train was • due, and he was 
closing the draw when his little child fell 
into the deep water. It would have been 
easy enough to rescue him, if the father 
could have taken the time, but already the 
thundering train was at hand. It was a 
cruel agony. His child could be saved only 
at the cost of other lives committed to his 
care. The brave man did his duty, but the 
child was drowned. The pass at Thermo- 
pylae was not more heroically kept. 

The Drawbridge Keeper. 

Drecker, the drawbridge keepet, opened wide 
The dangerous gate to let the vessel through ; 

His little son was standing by his side, 
Above Passaic river, deep and blue ; 

While in the distance, like a moan of pain, 

Was heard the whistle of the coming train. 

At once brave Drecker worked to swing it back — 
The gate-like bridge, that seems a gate of death ; 

Nearer and nearer, on the slender track. 

Came the swift engine, puffing its white breath. 

Then, with a shriek, the loving father saw 

His darling boy fall headlong from the draw. 

Either at once down in the stream to spring 
And save his son, and let the living freight 

Rush on to death, or to his work to cling. 
And leave his boy unhelped to meet his fate ; 

Which should he do? Were you, as he was tried, 

Would not your love outweight all else beside? 



And yet the child to him was full a^ dear 
As yours may be to you — the light of eyes, 

A presence like a brighter atmosphere. 

The hoviseholdstar that shone in love's mild skies— • 

Yet side by side with duty, stern and grim. 

Even his child become as nought to him. 

For Drecker, being great of soul, and true. 
Held to his work, and did not aid his boy. 

Who, in the deep, dark water sank from view. 
Then from the father's life went forth all joy ; 

But, as he fell back, pallid with his pain. 

Across the bridge, in safety, passed the train. 

And yet the man was poor, and in his breast 
Flowed no ancestral blood of king or lord; 

True greatness needs no title and no crest 
To win from men just honor and reward ; 

Nobility is not of rank, but mind — ■ 

And is inborn, and common in our kind. 

He is most noble whose humanity 

Is least corrupted. To be just and good 

The birthright of the lowest born may be ; 
Say what we can, we are one brotherhood. 

And rich, or poor, or famous or unknown, 

True hearts are noble, and true hearts alone. 

Henry Abbey. 



Story of a Naval Officer. 

Sir Alexander Ball was one of those great 
men who adorned the English navy at the 
end of the last century. Though less known, 
perhaps, to the present generation than sev- 
eral of his contemporaries, lie was inferior to 
none of them; and in many respects it would 
be difficult to name his equal. To bravery, 
decision and energy he added a sound judg- 
ment, a meditative mind, and the most 
unwearied benevolence. 

The following anecdotes are from the 
pen of his friend, the poet, Coleridge. " In 
a large party at the Grand Master's palace, 
in Malta, I had observed a naval officer of 
distinguished merit listening to Sir A. Ball, 
whenever he joined in the conversation, with 
a mixed expression of awe and affection that 
gave a more than common interest to so 
manly a countenance. This officer after- 



400 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



wards told me that he considered himself 
indebted to Sir Alexander for that which was 
dearer to him than his life. 

" 'When he was Lieutenant Ball,' said he, 
" he was the officer I accompanied in my 
first boat expedition, being then a midship- 
man, and only in my fourteenth year. As 
we were rowing up to the vessel which we 
were to attack, amid a discharge of musketry, 
I was overpowered by fear, and seemed on 
the point of fainting away. Lieutenant Ball, 
who saw the condition I was in, placed him- 
self close beside me, and still keeping his 
countenance directed towards the enemy, 
pressed my hand in the most friendly man- 
ner, and said in a low voice, " Courage, my 
dear boy, you will recover in a minute or 
so; I was just the same when I first went 
out in this way." Sir,' added the officer to 
me, ' it was as if an angel had put a new 
soul into me. With the feeling that I was 
not yet dishonored, the whole burden of 
agony was removed ; and from that moment 
I was as fearless and forward as the oldest 
of the boat's crew.' " 

"I Will Not Leave You." 

For some time a coolness existed between 
Lord (then Captain) Nelson and Captain 
Ball. When both their ships were together, 
close off Minorca, Nelson's vessel was nearly 
disabled by a violent storm, and Captain Ball 
took it in tow, and used his best endeavors 
to bring her into Port Mahon. Nelson, 
believing that both ships would be lost, 
requested Captain Ball to let him loose, and 
on his refusal became impetuous, and enforced 
his demand with passionate threats. Captain 
Ball then took a speaking-trumpet, and 
calmly replied, " I feel confident that I can 
bring you in safe ; therefore I must not, and 
by the help of the Almighty God I will not. 



leave 



you ! 



What he promised he per- 



formed ; and after they were safely anchored. 
Nelson came on board of Ball's ship, and 
embracing him with all the ardor of acknowl- 
edgment, exclaimed, "A friend in need is a 
friend indeed." This was the beginning of a 
firm and perfect friendship between these two 
great men. 

A Gallant Lad. 

Captain Boggs, of Varuna, tells a story of 
a brave boy who was on board his vessel 
during the bombardment of the forts on the 
Misissippi River. The lad, who answered to 
the name of Oscar, was but thirteen years of 
age, but had an old head on his shoulders, 
and was alert and energetic. During the 
hottest of the fire he was busily engaged in 
passing ammunition to the gunners, and nar- 
rowly escaped death when one of the terrific 
broadsides of the Varuna's antagonist was 
poured in. Covered with dirt and begrimed 
with powder, he was met by Captain Boggs, 
who asked where he was going in such a 
hurry. " To get a passing-box, sir ; the 
other one was smashed by a ball." 

And so through the fight, the brave lad 
held his place and did his duty. When the 
Varuna went down, Captain Boggs missed 
the boy, and thought he was among the 
victims of the battle. But a few minutes 
afterwards he saw the lad gallantly swimming 
toward the wreck. Clambering on board of 
Captain Boggs' boat, he threw his hand up 
to his forehead, giving the usual salute, and 
uttering only the words, "All right, sir ! I 
report myself on board," passed coolly to 
his station. 

John B. Gough used to narrate in his 
own eloquent and thrilling way the story of 
John Maynard, the brave hero who lost his 
life on Lake Erie in the successful endeavor 
to save the lives on board the vessel, of 
which he was the pilot. John Maynard was 



SELF-SACRIFICE. 



401 



a plain, unknown man, and probably no 
one ever imagined would exhibit such self- 
sacrifice. Never will his story cease to 
thrill the hearts of those who read it. It 
has been embodied in verse by Mr. Alger, 
and we take pleasure here in presenting it to 
the reader. 

John Maynard. 

'Twas on Lake Brie's broad expanse, 

One bright midsummer day, 
The gallant steamer Ocean Queen 

Swept proudly on her way. 
Bright faces clustered on the deck, 

Or leaning o'er the side. 
Watched carelessly the feathery foam. 

That flecked the rippling tide. 

Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky. 

That smiling bends serene, 
Could dream that danger, awful, vast, 

Impended o'er the scene — 
Could dream that ere an hour had sped. 

That frame of sturdy oak 
Would sink beneath the lake's blue waves, 

Blackened with fire and smoke ? 

A seaman sought the captain's side, 

A moment whispered low ; 
The captain's swarthy face grew pale. 

He hurried down below. 
Alas, too late ! Though quick and sharp 

And clear his orders came, 
No human efforts could avail 

To quench the insidious flame. 

The bad news quickly reached the deck. 

It sped from lip to lip, 
And ghastly faces everywhere 

Looked from the doomed ship. 
"Is there no hope — no chance of life?" 

A hundred lips implore ; 
"But one," the captain made reply, 
' ' To run the ship on shore. " 

A sailDr, whose heroic soul 

That hour should yet reveal — 
By name John Maynard, eastern born — 

Stood calmly at the wheel. 
" Head her south-east ! ' ' the captain shouts, 

Above the smothered roar. 



" Head her south-east -without delay ! 
Make for the nearest shore ! " 

No terror pales the helmsman's cheek. 

Or clouds his dauntless eye, 
As in a sailor's measured tone 

His voice responds, ' ' Ay, Ay ! ' ' 
Three hundred souls— the steamer's freight — 

Crowd forward wild with fear. 
While at the stern the dreadful flames 

Above the deck appear. 

John Maynard watched the nearing flames. 

But still, with steady hand 
He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly 

He steered the ship to land. 
"John Maynard," with an anxious voice. 

The captain cries once more, 
"Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, 

And we will reach the shore. ' ' 
Through flames and smoke that dauntless heart 

Responded firmly, still 
Unawed, though face to face with death, 
"With God's good help I will ! " 

The flames approach with giant strides, 

They scorch his hands and brow ; 
One arm disabled seeks his side, 

Ah, he is conquered now ! 
But no, his teeth are firmly set. 

He crushes down the pain — 
His knee upon the stanchion pressed, 

He guides the ship again. 

One moment yet ! one moment yet ! 

Brave heart, thy task is o'er ! 
The pebbles grate beneath the keel. 

The steamer touches shore. 
Three hundred grateful voices rise. 

In praise to God, that He 
Hath saved them from the fearful fire, 

And from the ingulfing sea. 

But where is he, that helmsman bold? 

The captain saw him reel — 
His nerveless hands released their task, 

He sunk beside the wheel. 
The wave received his lifeless corpse, 

Blackened with smoke and fire. 
God rest him ! Hero never had 

A nobler funeral pyre ! 

Horatio Ai,ger, Jr. 




A CASK OP INDECISION — DANGER ON BOTH SIDES. 



402 



CHAPTKR XXVI. 
DECISION. 




"T'HEN we can say " no " not 
/ only to things that are 
wrong and sinful, but also 
to things pleasant, which 
would hinder and clog our 
grand duties and our chief 
work, we shall understand 
more fully what life is worth and how to 
make the most of it. We need our innocent 
enjoyments. After all that has been said 
about the sternness of the old Puritans, they 
doubtless had their mirth at times, told pithy 
stories, and may have been guilty even of 
practical jokes. 

Yet if we were to take the view that life is 
nothing but a play spell, caUing for no self- 
denial, demanding no decision on our part 
against the evil and in favor of the good, we 
should be making a grave mistake. The 
character must not be colorless, must not be 
of the milk and water type, must be positive 
and emphatic. 

Says HazHtt : "There is nothing more to 
be esteemed than a manly firmness and 
decision of character. I like a person who 
knows his own mind and sticks to it ; who 
sees at once what, in given circumstances, is 
to be done, and does it." 

Says Gilpin : " I hate to see things done 
by halves. If it be right, do it boldly ; if it 
be wrong, leave it undone." 

Says Thomas Carlyle in his own strong 

way : " The block of granite which was an 

obstacle in the pathway of the weak, becomes 

a stepping-stone in the pathway of the strong." 

Says the celebrated Punshon : "All the 



world over it is true that a double-minded 
man is unstable in all his ways, like a wave 
on the streamlet tossed hither and thither 
with every eddy of its tide. A determinate 
purpose in life and a steady adhesion to it 
through all disadvantages are indispensable 
conditions of success." 

Saying of Dr. Hawes. 

Says Virginia's statesman, William Wirt: 
" Decision of character will often give to an 
inferior mind command over a superior." 

There once lived in Hartford, Connecticut, 
a clergyman whose influence over the young 
was almost magical. Sympathetic, sound in 
judgment, plain and honest. Dr. Joel Hawes 
wielded a power such as belonged to kw 
men of his time. Here is one of his sayings : 
"He that cannot decidedly say 'no' when 
tempted to evil is on the highway to ruin. 
He loses the respect even of those who 
would tempt him, and becomes the pliant 
tool and victim of their evil designs." 

These sayings are quoted here to indicate 
what thoughtful men have had to say on the 
great matter of decision. No man is weaker 
than the one who is nothing more nor less 
than a weather-vane. He turns this way and 
that with every wind that blows. He has 
no mind of his own, no fixed opinion, no 
firm resolution, no strong determinati n. 
Yesterday he thought one thing ; to-da\- he 
thinks another. He is unstable and hence is 
unmanly. He drifts about as a straw does 
in a tempest. If he comes to a conclusion, 
he does not know how to hold it ; he is 

403 



404 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



ready for another, and then is ready for the 
next. Easily influenced, swayed this way 
and that, people say of him, " You never 
know where to find him." Do not trouble 
yourself to find him at all; he is not worth 
the finding. 

You do not like to see one whose chief 
characteristic is stubborness, one who resists 
all appeals to reason, makes up his mind 
perhaps hastily, and then boasts that he 
never gives up his opinion. He is obstinate, 
and is proud that he is so. A mule may 
have most excellent qualities for a mule, but 
a man who is mulish, who is stubborn, and 
little else but stubborn, is only to be 
despised. Perhaps the idea would be better 
expressed by saying he is too weak to form 
a correct opinion ; he has too little mind to 
ever change his mind. It belongs to noble 
souls to yield when there is good occasion 
for yielding. 

Scotland's Poet. 

You should learn to be firm. Said Napo- 
leon : " When firmness is sufficient, rashness 
is unnecessary." Steadfastness is a noble 
quality, but, unguided by knowledge, it 
becomes obstinancy. Robby Burns with all 
his genius was a weak man, the sport of cir- 
cumstances and the prey of his own appetite, 
yet ye wrote : " Firmness both in suffering 
and exertion is a character which I would 
wish to possess. I have always despised the 
whining yelp of complaint and the cowardly, 
feeble resolve." What are you to do in the 
whirl and swirl of life unless there is some- 
thing of the rock in you that beats back the 
billows ? This, as already intimated, does 
not mean that you are to stick to your 
resolve whether or no, but having made up 
your mind that what you are to do is right 
and reasonable, you are to do it, though the 
heavens fall. Do not be drifting constantly 



from one purpose to another. Keep the end 
in view and press toward it. Have that 
decision which means success ; get rid of 
that indecision which means defeat. No 
words of Mr. Lincoln have been more quoted 
than these : " With malice toward none, 
with charity for all, with firmness in the 
right, as God gives us to see the right." 
Without this sentiment as a guiding star 
what is any man or nation worth ? One of 
the English poets has given us these noble 
lines : 

Thy purpose firm is equal to uhe deed ; 
Who does the best his circumstance allows 
Does well ; acts nobly, angels could no more. 

Why Men Fail. 

Here is the secret of many a failure in 
life. You have seen those who were bril- 
liant in mind, capable of achieving much, 
endowed with energy and activity, yet they 
are like the top that whirls round and round, 
accomplishing nothing. They set their faces 
in one direction for a time, yet only for a 
time. They think they will do this and 
begin to do it ; they think they will do that 
and go about it ; they think they will do 
something else, try it and give it up. The 
one thing for them to give up is their sense- 
less indecision. So long as they are blown 
about by every wind that strikes them, all 
effort is a failure and life becomes an ab- 
surdity. Some one asked, respecting a 
clergyman, to what church he belonged. 
The reply was, "I haven't heard to what 
denomination he does belong this year." 
What respect for such an unstable character 
can any one have ? To be fixed and reso- 
lute, to be decided and firm, is only to be 
expected of those who have brains enough 
to come to a conclusion. 

This trait of character has been recom- 
mended to young men too exclusively. I 



DECISION. 



405 



know of no reason why it is not equally ini- 
portant to young women, and equally be- 
coming the sex in general. One thing, at 
any rate, I do know ; which is, that thou- 
sands of young women — and the world 
through their imperfection — suffer, in no 
trifling degree, from the want of this virtue. 
I call it a virtue. What is there that pro- 
duces more evil — directly or indirectly — than 
the want of power, when occasion requires it, 
to say "yes," or "no?" As long as with 
half the human race — and the more influen- 
tial half, too — no does not mean no, andj/^'j' 
does not mean yes, there will be a vast 
amount of vice, and crime, and suffering in 
the world, as the natural consequence. And 
is not that which is the cause of so much 
evil, nearly akin to vice ? And is any thing 
more entitled to the name of virtue, than its 
opposite ? 

The King and the Curse. 

Let me illustrate my meaning by a Scrip- 
ture example. When Balak, the king of 
Moab, undertook to extort a curse upon 
Israel, from Balaam, the latter did not say 
no ; but only said, the Lord would not per- 
mit him to do what was required. He left 
neither to Balak nor to his messengers, any 
reason to conclude that his virtue was invul- 
nerable. On the contrary, as the event 
plainly shows, his answer was just such a 
one as encouraged them to prosecute their 
attempts to seduce him. 

Now it is precisely this sort of refusal, 
direct or implied, in a thousand cases which 
might be named, which brings down evil, 
not only upon those who make it, but upon 
others. They mean no, perhaps ; and yet it 
is not certain that the decision is — like the 
laws of the Medes and Persians — irrevoca- 
ble. Something in the tone, or manner, or 
both combined, leaves room to hope for suc- 



cess in time to come. "The woman who 
deliberates, is lost," we are told : and is it 
not so ? Do not many who say no with 
hesitancy, still retain the power and the dis- 
position to deliberate ? And is it not so 
understood ? 

It is — I repeat it — a great misfortune — a 
very great one — not to know how and when 
to say NO. Indeed, the undecided are more 
than unfortunate ; they are very unsafe. They 
who cannot say no, are never their own keep- 
ers ; they are always, more or less, in the power 
and at the command of others. They may 
form a thousand resolutions a day, to with- 
stand in the hour of temptation ; and yet, if 
the temptation comes, and they have not ac- 
quired decision of character, it is ten to one 
but they will yield to it. 

Is it too much to say, that half the world 
are miserable on this account — miserable 
themselves, and a source of misery to others ? 
Is it too much to say, that decision of char- 
acter is more important to young women 
than to any other class of persons whatever? 

Evils of Hesitation. 

But as it is in everything or almost every- 
thing else, so it is in this matter : they who 
would reform themselves, must begin with 
the smaller matters of life. The great trials 
— those of decision no less than those of 
other traits of human character — come but 
seldom ; and they who allow themselves, 
habitually, to vacillate, and hesitate, and re- 
main undecided, in the every-day concerns 
of life, will inevitably do so in those larger 
matters which recur less frequently. 

No one will succeed in acquiring true de- 
cision of character, without perseverance. 
A few feeble efforts, continued a day or two, 
or a week, are by no means sufficient to 
change the character or form the habit. The 
efforts must be earnest, energetic, and un- 



406 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



remitted ; and must be persevered in through 
life. 

I am not ignorant that many philosophers 
and physiologists have denied that woman 
possesses the power of perseverance in what 
she undertakes, in any eminent degree. A 
British writer, distinguished for his boldness, 
if not for his metaphysical acuteness, main- 
tains with much earnestness, that woman, by 
her vital organization, is much wanting in 
perseverance. This notion may or may not 
be true. Certain it is, however, that she has 
her peculiarities, as well as man his. But 
whether she has little or much native power 
of perseverance in what she undertakes, is 
not so important a question, as whether she 
makes a proper use of the power she pos- 
sesses. 

The Right Thing at the Right Time. 

We are required to do that best which we 
undertake as much as is the highest seraph ; 
and woman is not the less bound to per- 
severe in matters where perseverance would 
become her, because her native power of per- 
severance is feeble, if, indeed, it is so. On the 
contrary, this very fact makes the duty of 
perseverance to the utmost extent of the 
means God has put into her hands, the more 
urgent — especially as small powers are apt 
to be overlooked. 

There is one habit which should be culti- 
vated, not only for its usefulness in general, 
but especially for its value in leading to true 
decision of character. I mean, the habit of 
doing everything which it devolves upon us 
to do at all, precisely at the time when it 
ought to be done. Everything in human 
character goes to wreck, under the reign of 
procrastination, while prompt action gives to 
all things a corresponding and proportional 
life and energy. Above all, everything in 
the shape of decision of character is lost by 



delay. It should be a sacred rule with every 
individual who lives in the world for any 
higher purpose than merely to live, never 
to put off, for a single moment, a thing which 
ought to be done immediately — if it be no 
more than the cleaning or changing of a 
garment. 

When I see a young woman neglecting, 
from day to day, her correspondents — her 
pile of letters constantly increasing, and her 
dread of putting pen and thoughts to paper 
accumulating as rapidly — I never fail to con- 
clude, at once, that whatever other excel- 
lent qualities she may possess, she is a 
stranger to the one in question. She who 
cannot make up her mind to answer a letter 
when she knows it ought to be answered — 
and in general a letter ought to be answered 
soon after it is received^ — will not be likely 
to manifest decision in other things of still 
greater importance. 

"A Little More Slumber." 
The same is true in regard to indecision 
in other things of even less moment than 
the writing of a letter. It is manifest espe- 
cially in regard to the matter of rising in 
the morning. She who knows it is time to 
get up, and yet cannot decide to do so, and 
consequently lies yawning a little longer, 
" and yet a little longer still," can never, I 
am bold to say, while this indolence and in- 
decision are indulged, be decided in any- 
thing else — at least, habitually. She may, 
indeed, be so by fits and starts ; but the 
habit will never be so confirmed as to be 
regarded as an essential element of her char- 
acter. 

Nearly all the habits of modern female 
education — I mean the fashionable educa- 
tion of the family and school — are entirely 
at war with the virtue I am endeavoring to 
inculcate. It would be a miracle, almost, if 




THE DECISIVE ANSWER. 



407 



408 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



a young woman who has been educated in a 
fashionable family, under the eye of a fashion- 
able mother, and at a fashionable boarding 
school, under the direction of a teacher 
whose main object is to please her patrons, 
should come out to the world, without being 
quite destitute of all true decision of char- 
acter. If it were the leading object of our 
boarding schools to form the habit of inde- 
cision, they could not succeed better than 
many of them now do. They furnish to 
the world a set of beings who are anything 
but what the world wants, and who are more 
likely to do almost anything else than to be 
the means of reforming it. 

A Grand Determination. 

You will doubtless say it is easy to give 
advice, that some persons make a business 
of it, that they give a great deal of advice 
which they never follow themselves. Very 
well, you are at liberty to say all this and 
much more. Still, it would not be well to 
forget that advice has its value and those 
who are never urged to overcome their 
faults and failings are not so likely to do it 
as those who are advised to thus gain a 
moral victory over themselves. It is not a 
question as to whether one is advised to do 
a certain thing ; if the duty recommended is 
binding and important, there should be no 
hesitation. What I am trying especially to 
enforce is bold decision, that grand deter- 
mination without which no man can be more 
than half a man. 

But firmness of purpose is master of the 
situation. Think of the great number of 
difficult pursuits. Think of the many hard 
things young people have to learn. You 
are anxious, we will say, to become a good 
scholar, and hold an enviable rank. Do 
you think you will attain this object by pur- 
suing it with enthusiasm for a week and 



then giving it up for a month ? You get 
down over your desk ; the problem is a 
hard one ; it suddenly occurs to you that 
you have a headache — which is a very con- 
venient thing to have, since that problem is 
so hard; your efforts suddenly cease. If 
you could be decided enough to take that 
problem and stick to it with grim tenacity, 
you would doubtless have the sweet satisfac- 
tion of having conquered, and would have 
proved what is of greater value, that you are 
not so weak as to be driven from your pur- 
pose by trifles or difficulties. 

Success Hangs on Decision. 

One of the hardest undertakings known to 
mechanical science, is the making of lenses 
for telescopes. It has been said there is only 
one successful maker of these lenses in this 
country, and he has furnished them for the 
largest telescopes on the continent. It re- 
quires not only mechanical genius for cutting, 
grinding, poHshing and adjusting the glass; 
something vastly more is needed. Think of 
beginning a work which is sure to last two 
or three years, with the possibility that even 
after all the labor of that time it will prove a 
complete failure. Some flaw may appear, 
some disproportion, some unforseen defect,, 
which will defeat the whole process. Then, 
a new beginning must be made, with the 
chance again of a similar result. Very won- 
derful is the lens through which the heavens 
burst in sumptuous splendor, but more mar- 
velous by far is that steady aim and unflinch- 
ing perseverance which declares it shall be 
done. The first obstacle would appall some 
men ; only the man of decision and force is 
equal to the occasion. Decision, strong and 
unyielding, has had much to do with the 
great successes which command our admira- 
tion and excite our surprise. 

Where many men fail is in the crisis of 



DECISION. 



409 



conduct. They know very well the course 
they should pursue ; they are tempted to do 
the opposite. You fancy that something 
is to be gained by yielding — as if it were 
possible ever to gain anything by a sacrifice 
of character. You have come to a fork in 
the roads ; one road or the other you must 
follow. You have a grand opportunity to 
say " no," and to say it, would place the 
brightest jewel in your crown. It is sur- 
prising that you doubt and hesitate. Poor, 
weak creature, you are not equal to the oc- 
casion. It were well if you could exhibit a 
holy stubborness in favor of the right. Just 
here is where men break, go to pieces, and 
the wreck is more deplorable than that of the 
richest argosy ever cast upon the rocks. It 
is not surprising, therefore, that so much has 
been said and written upon decision of char- 
acter, and this virtue has been urged and 
recommended as one of the chief elements 
of human success. 

The Roman Emperor. 

Doubtless all are familiar with the story 
of Csesar crossing the Rubicon. The details 
are given in Tyler's History, as follows : 
The boundary which separates Italy from 
Cisalpine Gaul is a small river named the 
Rubicon. The Roman Senate, aware of the 
designs of Caesar, had pronounced a decree 
devoting to the infernal gods whatever gen- 
eral should presume to pass this boundary 
with an army, a legion, or even a single co- 
hort. Caesar, who, with all his ambition, in- 
herited a large share of the benevolent af- 
fections, did not resolve on the decisive step 
which he had now taken without some com- 
punction of mind. Arrived with his army 
at the border of his province, he hesitated 
for some time, while he pictured to himself 
the inevitable miseries of that civil war in 
which he was now preparing to unsheath 



the sword. "If I pass this small stream," 
said he, " in what calamities must I involve 
my country ! Yet if I do not, I myself am 
ruined." The latter consideration was too 
powerful. Ambition, too, presented allure- 
ments which, to a mind like Caesar's, were 
irresistible. 

"The Die is Cast." 

His reflections became more interesting in 
proportion as the danger grew near. Stag- 
gered by the greatness of his attempt, he 
stopped to weigh within himself its incon- 
veniences ; and as he stood revolving in 
silence the arguments on both sides, he many 
times changed his opinion. After which he 
deliberated upon it with such of his friends 
as were by, among whom was Asinius Pollio ; 
enumerating the calamities which the passage 
of that i4ver would bring upon the world, 
and the reflections that might be made upon 
it by posterity. At last, upon some sudden 
impulse, bidding adieu to his reasonings, and 
plunging into the abyss of futurity, in the 
words of those who embark in doubtful and 
arduous enterprises, he cried out, " The die 
is cast ! " and immediately passed the river. 

Much has been said about the decided 
bearing of the early Scotch Presbyterians. 
Persecution, they said, could only kill the 
body, but indulgence was deadly to the soul. 
Driven from the towns, they assembled on 
heaths and mountains. Attacked by the 
civil power, they without scruple repelled 
force by force. At every conventicle they 
mustered in arms. They repeatedly broke 
out into open rebellion. They were easily 
defeated, and mercilessly punished ; but 
neither defeat nor punishment could subdue 
their spirit. Hunted down like wild beasts, 
tortured till their bones were beaten flat, im- 
prisoned by hundreds, hanged by scores, ex- 
posed at one time to the license of soldiers. 



410 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



from England, abandoned at another time to 
the mercy of bands of marauders from the 
Highlands, they still stood at bay in a mood 
so savage that the boldest and mightiest op- 
pressor could not but dread the audacity of 
their despair. They were of fibre tough 
enough to suffer for a principle. 

This subject finds many examples in the 
history of our own land. In 1846 Colonel 
John C. Fremont determined to strike a blow 
for his country ; he urged the people of 
California, many of whom were Americans, 
to declare their independence. The hardy 
frontiersmen of the Sacramento valley 
flocked to his standard ; and a campaign 
-was at once begun to overthrow the Mexi- 
can authority. An American fleet had cap- 
tured the town of Monterey and San Diego. 
Before the end of summer the whole of the 
vast province was subdued and the authority 
of the United States was completely estab- 
lished. A country large enough for an em- 
pire had been conquered by a handful of 
resolute men. 

A Pocket Full. 

Bancroft, speaking of the opponents of 
royalty in England in the 17th century, says 
that self-preservation, uniting with ambition 
and wild enthusiasm, urged them to uncom- 
promising hostility with Charles I. He or 
they must perish. " If my head or the 
king's must fall," argued Cromwell, " can I 
hesitate which to choose ? " By an act of 
violence the Independents seized on the 
king, and held him in their special custody. 
" Now," said the exulting Cromwell — " now 
that I have the king in my hands I have the 
Parliament in my pocket." 

Here is another illustration from English 
history. The death of Strafford had been 
decreed, and great efforts were made to re- 
verse the edict. The Parliament was inflex- 



ible ; the Queen wept; England was in a 
ferment. Charles I., although ready to 
yield, still hesitated. The Queen Henrietta, 
of France, daughter of Henry IV., a beauti- 
ful and accomplished princess, for whom 
until his death the king preserved the fidel- 
ity of a husband and the passion of a lover, 
presented herself before him in mourning, 
accompanied by her little children. 

She besought him on her knees to yield 
to the vengeance of the people, which he 
couldnotresistwithout turning upontheinno- 
cent pledges of their love that death which 
he was endeavoring vainly to avert from a 
condemned head. " Choose," said she, 
" between your own life, mine, these dear 
children's and the life of this minister so 
hateful to the nation." 

Charles, struck with horror at the idea of 
sacrificing his beloved wife and infant chil- 
dren, the hopes of the monarchy, replied 
that he cared not for his own life, for he 
would willingly give it to save his minister ; 
but to endanger Henrietta and her children 
was beyond his strength and desire. He 
signed the death warrant of his chief mini- 
ster and faithful friend. 

A thrilling illustration of this virtue is 
here given, which is only one of many 
similar acts of heroic decision. 

The Engineer's Story. 

No, children, my trips are over, 

The engineer needs rest ; 
My hand is shaky ; I'm feeling 

A tugging pain i' my breast ; 
But here, as the twilight gathers, 

I'll tell you a tale of the road, 
That'll ring in my head forever, 

Till it rests beneath the sod. 

We were lumbering along in the twilight, 

The night was dropping her shade, 
And the ' ' Gladiator ' ' labored — 

Climbing the top of the grade ; 



DECISION. 



411 



The train was heavily laden, 

So I let my engine rest, 
Climbing the grading slowly. 

Till we reached the upland's crest. 

I held my watch to the lamplight — 

Ten minutes behind the time ! 
Lost in the slackened motion 

Of the up-grade's heavy climb ; 
But I knew the miles of the prairie 

That stretched a level track, 
So I touched the gauge of the boiler, 

And pulled the lever back. 

Over the rails a-gleaming, 

Thirty an hour, or so, 
The engine leaped like a demon, 

Breathing a fiery glow ; 
But to me — ahold of the lever — 

It seemed a child alway. 
Trustful and always ready 

My lightest touch to obey. 

I was proud, you know, of my engine, 

Holding it steady that night. 
And my eye on the track before us, 

Ablaze with the Drummond light. 
We neared a well-known cabin. 

Where a child of three or four, 
As the up train passed, oft called me, 

A playing around the door. 

My hand was firm on the throttle 

As we swept around the curve. 
When something afar in the shadow. 

Struck fire through every nerve. 
I sounded the brakes, and crashing 

The reverse lever down in dismay. 
Groaning to Heaven — eighty paces 

Ahead was the child at its play ! 

One instant — one, awful and only, 

The world flew round in my brain, 
And I smote my hand hard on my forehead 

To kef:^> back the terrible pain ; 
The *.rain I thought flying forever, 

With mad irresistible roll, 
■^Tiile the cries of the dying, the night wind 

Swept into my shuddering soul. 

Then I stood on the front of the engine — 
How I got there I never could tell — 



My feet planted down on the crossbar, 
Where the cow-catcher slopes to the rail, 

One hand firmly locked on the coupler, 
And one held out in the night. 

While my eye gauged the distance, and measured 
The speed of our slackening flight. 

My mind, thank the Lord ! it was steady ; 

I saw the curls of her hair. 
And the face that, turning in wonder, 

Was lit by the deadly glare. 
I know little more — but I heard it — 

The groan of the anguished wheels. 
And remember thinking — the engine 

In agony trembles and reels. 

One rod ! To the day of my dying 

I shall think the old engine reared back, 
And as it recoiled, with a shudder 

I swept my hand over the track ; 
Then darkness fell over my eyelids, 

But I heard the surge of the train. 
And the poor old engine creaking, 

As racked by a deadly pain. 

They found us, they said, on the gravel, 

My fingers enmeshed in her hair. 
And she on my bosom a-climbing, 

To nestle securely there. 
We are not much given to crying — 

We men that run on the road — 
But that night they said, there were faces. 

With tears on them, lifted to God. 

For years in the eve and the morning 

As I neared the cabin again, 
My hand on the lever pressed downward 

And slackened the speed of the train. 
When my engine had blown her a greeting. 

She always would come to the door ; 
And her look with a fullness of heaven 

Blesses me evermore. 



A great deal of labor is lost to the world 
for the want of decision. Every day sends 
to their graves a number of obscure men, 
who have only remained in obscurity because 
their timidity has prevented them from mak- 
ing a first effort. 




HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



412 



CHAPT^E^R XXVTT. 
HEROISM IN WELL=DOINQ. 




N old times virtue and valor were 
synonymous. Valor, the old 
Roman valor, was worth, value. 
It was strength, force, available 
for noble purposes. He who 
best serves his fellow-creatures 
— who elevates them — who 
saves them — is the most valiant. 

There is also an inward valor — of con- 
science, of honesty, of self-denial, of self- 
sacrifice, of daring to do the right in the 
face of the world's contumely. Its chief 
characteristic is great-heartedness. Endur- 
ance and energy are the dual soul of worth, 
the true valor. 

The heroism whose theatre is the battle- 
field is not of the highest order. Amid the 
clash of bayonets and the boom of cannon 
men are incited to deeds of daring, and are 
ready to give their Jives for the good of their 
country. 

Women, whose province it seems to be to 
bear and forbear, are quite as capable of 
•endurance as men. In the blood-stained 
stories of war there is none, perhaps, that 
more enlists our hearts than that of the 
woman who put on male attire to follow her 
lover to the fight, stood by his side when he 
fell, and then braved death rather than be 
parted from his dead body. How many are 
there of these soldiers of the world, ever 
fighting the uphill battle of existence, ever 
striving for a position and never attaining 
one ; ever decimated by the artillery of 
necessity ; beaten back, discomfited, all but 
bopeless and despairing, and yet still return- 



ing to the charge ! Life with them is a long, 
hard conflict. 

The Christian hero is not incited by any 
such deeds of daring as the soldier hero. 
The arena on which he acts is not that of 
aggression or strife, but of suffering and self- 
sacrifice. No stars glitter on his breast, no 
banners wave over him. And when he falls, 
as he often does, in the performance of his 
duty, he receives no nation's laurels, no 
pompous mournings, but only the silent 
dropping of tears over his grave. 

The Best Men and Women. 

Man is not made for fame, or glory, or 
juccess ; but for something higher and 
greater than the world can give. " God 
hath given to man," says Jeremy Taylor, 
" a short time here upon earth, and yet upon 
this short time eternity depends. We 
must remember that we have many enemies 
to conquer, many evils to prevent, much 
danger to run through, many difficulties to 
be mastered, many necessities to be served, 
and much good to do." 

Self-sacrifice is the key-note of Christ- 
ianity. The best men and women have 
never been self-seekers. They have given 
themselves to others, without regard to 
glory or fame. They have found their best 
reward in the self-consciousness of duty 
performed. And yet many pass away with- 
out hearing the "well-done" of those 
whom they have served. "Do unto others 
as ye would they should do unto you," is a 
command of infinite application. And yet 

413 



414 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



it is not easy — at least for those who live in 
affluence or indifference — to carry out the 
obligation. 

There is not an unnecessary thing in 
existence, could we but understand it ; not 
one of our experiences of life but is full of 
signifiance, could we but see it. Even mis- 
fortune is often the surest touchstone of 
human excellence. The most celebrated 
poet of Germany has said "that he who has 
not eaten his bread in tears, who has not 
spent nights of pain weeping on his bed, 
does not yet know a heavenly power." 
When painful events occur they are, perhaps, 
sent only to try and prove us. If we stand 
firm in our hour of trial, this firmness gives 
serenity to the mind, which always feels sat- 
isfaction in acting conformably to duty. 

The Reward of Love. 

The opportunities of doing good come to 
all who work and .will. The earnest spirit 
finds its way to the hearts of others. Pa- 
tience and perseverance overcome all things. 
How many men, how many women too, 
volunteer to die without the applause of 
men. They give themselves up to visiting 
the poor ; they nurse the sick, suffer for 
them, and take the infectious diseases of 
which they die. Many a life has thus been 
laid down because of duty and mercy. 
They had no reward except that of love. 
Sacrifice, borne not for self but for others, is 
always sacred. 

Epimenedes, a philosopher and poet of 
Crete, was called to Athens in order to stay 
the plague. He went, and succeeded in 
arresting the pestilence, but refused any 
other reward beyond the good-will of the 
Athenians in favor of the inhabitants of 
Gnossus, where he dwelt. 

In olden times the plague was a frightful 
disease. People fled before it. They fled 



from each other. The plague-stricken were 
often left to die alone. Yet many noble and 
gentle men and women offered themselves 
up to stay the disease. Over three cen- 
turies ago the plague broke out in the city 
of Milan. Cardinal Charles Borromeo, the 
archbishop, was then (1576) staying at Lodi. 
He at once volunteered to go to the infected 
place. His clergy advised him to remain 
where he was, and to wait until the disease 
had exhausted itself He answered, " No ! 
A bishop, whose duty it is to give his life for 
his flock, cannot abandon them in their time 
of peril." "Yes," they repHed, "to stand 
by them is the higher course." " Well," he 
said, " is it not a bishop's duty to take the 
higher course? " And he went to Milan. 

His Example w^as Followed. 

The plague lasted about four months. 
During that time the Cardinal personally 
visited the sick, in their homes, in the hos- 
pitals, and everywhere. He watched over 
them, gave them food and medicine, and 
administered to them the last rites when 
dying. The example which he set was fol- 
lowed by his clergy, who ministered to the 
people with as much self-devotion as him- 
self And it was not until the last man 
died, and the last man recovered, that the 
good archbishop returned to his episcopal 
duties. 

The disease repeatedly visited England, at 
a time when the people were worse fed, and 
when the conditions of health were com- 
pletely disregarded. It proved most fatal in 
London, where the streets were narrow, foul, 
ill-ventilated, and badly supplied with water. 
Its last appearance was in 1665 ; it carried 
off 100,000 persons, when the population of 
London was not one-sixth of what it is now. 
It extended from London into the country. 

Though most people fled from the disease. 







415 



416 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



there were many instances of noble self-de- 
votion. Bishop Morton, of York, was one 
of these. He thought nothing of himself, 
but only of his flock. A pest-house or 
hospital was erected for the accommodation 
of the poorest. They were taken from their 
wretched homes, and carefully tended. 
Though it was difficult to find attendants, 
the bishop was always there. Like a soldier, 
he stood by his post. When food was 
wanted he rode out to his farm in the country 
and brought sacks of provisions on his horse 
for their use. He would not suffer his ser- 
vants to run the risk which he himself ran ; 
and not only saddled and unsaddled his 
horse, but had a private door made by which 
he could pass in and out without mixing 
with the people of the farm. 

All Given in Charity. 

Thus the plague was confined to York 
itself The bishop was a self-denying, gen- 
erous, and thoroughly good man. When 
his revenues were increased he expended all 
in charity, in hospitality, and in promoting 
every good work. His Hfe was one entire 
act of sincere piety and Christian benevo- 
lence. 

In London and Sydenham most of the 
doctors fled : but some self-denying men re- 
mained. Among these was Dr. Hodges, 
who stuck to his post. He continued in un- 
remitting attendance upon the sick. He did 
not derive any advantage from his self-deny- 
ing labors, except the approval of his own 
conscience. He fell into reduced circum- 
stances, was confined in Ludgate prison for 
debt, and died there in 1688. He left the 
best account of the last visit of the plague. 

From London, as we have said, the dis- 
ease extended to the country. In many re- 
mote country spots, places are pointed out 
in which, it is said, "they buried the plague." 



For instance, at the remote village of Eyam, 
in Derbyshire, a tailor received a box of 
clothes from London. While airing them at 
a fire he was seized with sickness, and died 
of plague on the fourth day. The disease 
spread. The inhabitants, only 350 in 
number, contemplated a general exodus ; 
but this was prevented by the heroism of the 
Rev. William Mompesson. He urged upon 
the people that they would spread the dis- 
ease far and wide, and they remained. He 
sent away his children, and wished to send 
away his delicate wife ; but she remained by 
the side of her husband. 

Driven to the Open Air. 

Mr. Mompesson determined to isolate the 
village, so that the plague should not extend 
into the surrounding districts. The Earl of 
Devonshire contributed all that was neces- 
sarp — including food, medicine, and other 
necessaries. In order not to bring the 
people together in the church, he held the 
services in the open air. He chose a rock in 
the valley for his writing-desk, and the 
people arranged themselves on the green 
slope opposite, so that he was clearly heard. 

The ravages of the plague continued for 
seven months. The congregation became 
less and less each time that it met. The 
rector and his wife were constantly among 
the sick, tending, nursing, and feeding them. 
At length the wife sickened with plague, and 
in her weak state she rapidly sank. She was 
buried, and the minister said over her grave, 
as he had done over so many of his parish- 
ioners, " Blessed are the dead who die in the 
Lord : even so saith the Spirit ; for they rest 
from their labors." 

The minister was ready to die, but he lived 
on in hope. Four-fifths of the inhabitants 
died, and were interred in a heathy hill 
above the village. "I may truly say," he 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



417 



said in a letter, " that our town has become a 
Golgotha, a place of skulls. There have been 
seventy-six families visited within my parish, 
out of which died 295 persons." Mr. Mom- 
pesson himself Hved to a good old age. He 
was offered the Deanery of Lincoln, but he 
declined it. He preferred to remain among 
his parishioners, and near the grave of his 
beloved wife. He died in 1708. 

The Plague Dug Up. 

Strange to say, some fifty years later, 
Tvhen some laboring men were digging near 
the place where " the plague had been 
buried," they came upon some linen, no 
doubt connected with the graves of the 
dead, when they were immediately stricken 
by typhus fever. Three of the men died, 
but the contagion spread through the village, 
and seventy persons were carried off The 
typhus seems to be the survival of the 
plague, and many are the towns of England 
where this terrible disease strikes off its thou- 
sands yearly. 

At Leeds upwards of forty years ago, 
there was an outbreak of typhus fever. It 
began in the poorest parts of the town, and 
spread to the richer quarters. In one yard 
twenty-eight persons had the fever in seven 
houses, three of which were without beds. 
It was the same in other yards and build- 
ings. In one house in which twelve had 
typhus, there was not a single bed. The 
House of Recovery and the Fever Hos- 
pital were completely full. A temporary 
wooden shed for a hospital was erected, and 
a mill was set apart for the reception of fever 
patients. 

Dr. Hook, then Vicar of Leeds, and the 
Rev. G. Hills (afterward Bishop of Columbia), 
visited these places daily. They adminis- 
tered every comfort and assistance in their 
power. The Catholic priests were most de- 
27 



voted. When .the plague of typhus broke 
out they went at once to minister to the 
poor. Into the densest pestilential abodes, 
where to breathe the poisoned air was death, 
they went fearlessly and piously. They 
were found at the bedsteads of the dying and 
the newly dead. No dangers daunted their 
resolute hearts. They saw death before 
them, but they feared him not. They caught 
the pestilence, and one by one they sickened 
and died. 

The Rev. Henry Walmsley, senior Catho- 
lic priest, first died. On the following day 
his junior died; he had been in Leeds only 
three weeks. Others pressed into the 
breach, as if a siege were to be won. They 
earnestly pleaded that they should be 
allowed to occupy the post of danger. The 
successor of Mr. Walmsley next fell a 
victim. Two others died, making five in all. 
A simple monument was erected to their 
memory, as men " who fell victims to fever in 
discharge of their sacred duties in 1847." 

They Brave Death. 

Surgeons and medical men are always in 
contact with diseases, no matter how infec- 
tious. These men brave death in all its 
aspects, often without the slightest hope of 
reward. Wherever they are called they go, 
unshrinkingly doing their duty, sometimes 
even unthanked. They spend and are spent, 
labor and toil, till their strength fails and 
their heart sickens ; and then the fever 
fastens on them and they are carried off. 
Heroes such as these pass silently through 
life, and fame never reaches them. The 
greatest heroes of all are men whom the 
world knows not of 

Surgeons have done their duty on the 
field as well as in the dweUings of the poor. 
They have gone out under fire, and brought 
back the wounded soldiers to be dressed and 



418 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



cared for. The French surgeon Larrey was 
quite a hero in this respect. During the 
retreat from Moscow he was seen performing 
an operation literally under the fire of the 
enemy. He had only a camp cloak to pro- 
tect the patient. It was held over him in the 
manner of an awning to protect him during 
the falling snow. 

In another case, which happened on the 
burning sands of Egypt, the dashing httle 
surgeon showed a similar ardor. An engage- 
ment with the English had just occurred, 
and among the wounded was General Silly, 
whose knee was ground by a bullet. Larrey, 
perceiving that fatal results might ensue un- 
less the limb was amputated at once, pro- 
posed amputation. The general consented 
to the operation, which was performed under 
the enemy's fire in the space of three 
minutes. 

The Surgeon and the Officer. 

But lo ! the English cavalry were ap- 
proaching. What was then to become of 
the French surgeon and his dear patient? 
"I had scarce time," said Larrey, "to place 
the wounded officer on my shoulders and to 
carry him rapidly away toward our army, 
which was in full retreat. I spied a series of 
ditches, some of them planted with caper 
bushes, across which I passed, while the 
cavalry were obliged to go by a more cir- 
cuitous route in that intersected country. 
Thus I had the happiness to reach the rear- 
guard of our army before this corps of 
dragoons. At length I arrived with this 
honorably wounded officer at Alexandria, 
where I completed his cure." 

Here is another hero. Doctor Salsdorf, 
Saxon surgeon to Prince Christian, had his 
leg shattered by a shell at the beginning of 
the battle of Wagram. While laid on the 
ground he saw, about fifteen paces from 



him, M. de Kerbourg, the aide-de-camp, 
who, struck by a bullet, had fallen and was 
vomiting blood. The surgeon saw that the 
officer must speedily die unless promptly 
helped. He summoned together all his 
power, dragged himself along the ground 
until he approached the officer, bled him, 
and saved his life. De Kerbourg could not 
embrace his benefactor. The wounded 
doctor was removed to Vienna, but he was 
so much exhausted that he only survived 
four days after the amputation of his leg. 

The Wounded Must Fly. 

On the advance of an army it is usual to 
bring up the wagons in the rear for the 
accommodation of the wounded. When 
the men fall they are carried back to the 
surgeon to be attended to. If the army is 
driven back, the surgeons and the wounded 
have to fly, or be taken prisoners. On the 
occasion of the battle of the Alma the Rus- 
sians fled, and the British and French fol- 
lowed. A large number of wounded men 
had been left. Several hundred Russians 
were brought to the eastern part of the field, 
where they were laid down in rows on a 
sheltered spot of ground near the river. 

Happily there was a surgeon at head- 
quarters whose sense of honor and duty was 
supported by a strong will, by resistless 
energy, and by a soundness of judgment and 
command of temper rarely united with great 
activity. This was Dr. Thompson, of the 
44th Regiment. Though the country was 
abandoned by the Russians, he succeeded in 
getting 400 pounds of biscuit and the num- 
ber of hands needed to sustain him in his 
undertaking. He immediately had the 
wounded fed, for they had had no susten- 
ance during twenty-four hours. Then he 
attended to the dressing of their wounds. 
This occupied him from seven in the evening 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



419 



until half-past eleven at night, yet he icept 
steadily at his work. 

By this time the soldiers had left to carry 
the English wounded back to the ships at 
Eupatoria. And then Dr. Thompson and 
his servant, John McGrath, remained among 
the Russian wounded. They remained there 
for three days and three nights alone, amid 
the scorching sun by day and the steel-cold 
stars by night. 

At length the opportunity occurred for 
embarking the Russians and sending them 
to a Russian port under a flag of truce. 
" When at length," says Mr. Kinglake, " on 
the morning of the 26th, Captain Lushing- 
ton, of the Albion, came up from the shore 
and discovered his two fellow-countrymen at 
their dismal post of duty, he was filled with 
admiration at their fortitude, and with sym- 
pathy for what they had endured." 

Held Out to the End. 

In like manner Dr. Kay, the surgeon of 
the hospital at Benares, during the Indian 
Mutiny, stood by his post at the risk of his 
life, for the enemy were advancing to destroy 
him as well as his suffering patients. Every 
one remembers the dreadful events at Cawn- 
pore, where every one perished, to the last 
man, the last woman, and the last child. 
Yet the British held out to the end, under 
the withering fire of the mutinous Sepoys. 

" It is hard to believe," says Rev. Robert 
Collyer, of New York, " any man, as a rule, 
more empty of what we call religion than 
the common soldier. His whole life, poor 
fellow ! makes it very hard for him to have 
any sense of it, and he has very little. But 
it has come out, since the great Sepoy 
Rebellion in India, that numbers of these 
men in the English army were offered the 
alternative of renouncing the Chrisian religion 
and embracing that of the rebels or being 



murdered by all the horrible ways that the 
hate and rage of the heathen can invent. 

" It is believed that they died to a man ; 
not one instance as yet has come to light of 
any common soldier giving way. He was a 
man belongirfg to the Christian side, and the 
pincers could not tear that simple manliness 
out of his heart, or the fire burn it out. 
And so there may be manliness where there 
is little grace, or if by grace you mean that 
gracious thing, a pure and holy life and 
a conscious religion." 

An Outbreak of Cholera. 

And here let us mention the self-devotion 
of two non-commissioned officers during the 
outbreak of cholera at Moultan. In the 
absence of women they nursed the sick and 
the dying. They worked day and night ire 
the cholera hospital. Corporal Derbyshire 
at last broke down from sheer fatigue, but 
his place was supplied by others. The 
other non-commissioned . officer. Corporal 
Hopper, volunteered for hospital duty at 
Topah, where he earned the gratitude of 
both the medical and military authorities. 
The surgeons were always at their task 
in both places, braving death at every 
moment. When the commander-in-chief 
visited Moultan, shortly after, he publicly 
thanked Derbyshire and Hopper in the 
midst of their admiring comrades. 

But the same quality is sometimes dis- 
played amid the fire of shot and shell. At 
the siege of Cadiz by the French in 18 12 
men and women were killed in the streets, at 
the windows, and in the recesses of their 
houses. When a shell was thrown by the 
enemy, a single toll of the great bell was the 
signal for the inhabitants to be on their 
guard. One day a solemn toll was heard in 
signal of a shell. That very shell fell 
furiously on the bell and shivered it to 



420 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



atpms. The monk whose duty it was to 
sound it went and tolled the other bell. 
The good man had conquered the fear of 
death. 

But a singular act of bravery on the part 
of a woman was displayed during the same 
siege. Matagorda was a small outlaying 
fort without a ditch or bomb-proof. Within 
this fort 140 English troops were stationed, 
for the purpose of impeding the completion 
of the French works. A Spanish seventy- 
four and an armed flotilla co-operated in the 
defence, but a hitherto masked battery 
opened upon the ships, and, after inundating 
them with hot shot, drove them for shelter 
to Cadiz harbor. 

A Sergeant's Noble Wife. 

Forty -eight guns and mortors of the 
largest size concentrated their fire upon the 
little fort. The feeble parapet at once van- 
ished before the crashing flight of shot and 
shell, leaving only the naked rampart and 
the undaunted hearts of the garrison. For 
thirty hours this tempest lasted ; and now 
occurs the anecdote of the woman of Mata- 
gorda. 

A sergeaJit's wife, named Retson, was in 
a casemate nursing a wounded man. The 
patient wasi thirsty, and wanted something to 
drink. She called to a drummer boy, and 
asked him to go to the well and fetch a pail 
of water. The boy hesitated, because he 
knew that the well was raked by the shot 
and she;ll.of the enemy. She snatched the 
bucket from his hand and went herself to 
the well. She braved the terrible cannonade, 
went down to the well, filled the bucket with 
water, and, though a shot cut the cord from 
her hand, she recovered it, went back with 
^he water for her patient, and fulfilled her 
mission. 

The shot fell upon the doomed fort thick 



and close. A staff bearing the Spanish flag 
was cut down six times in an hour. At 
length Sir Thomas Graham, finding the 
defence impracticable, sent a detachment of 
boats to carry off the survivors. A bastion 
was blown up under the direction of Major 
Lefebre. But he also fell, the last man who 
wet with his blood the ruins thus abandoned. 
The boats were then filled, and the men 
returned to Cadiz. They were accompanied 
by the heroic women of Matagorda. 

Florence Nightingale. 

Can any one believe that women can un- 
dertake to nurse soldiers in time of war? 
And yet it is done bravely and nobly. 
Nurses used to be taken from the same class 
as ordinary domestic servants. It was not 
until Miss Nightingale, by her noble devo- 
tion to the care of the sick and wounded, 
had made for herself an honored place in 
history, that people began to realize that 
nursing was a thing to be learned — that it 
required intelligence, willingness and fitness, 
as well as charity, affection and love. " It 
has been said and written scores of times," 
says Miss Nigtingale, "that every woman 
makes a good nurse. I believe, on the con- 
trary, that the elements of nursing are all 
but unknown." 

But how came it that she devoted herself 
to the profession of nursing? Simply from 
a feeling of love and duty. She need never 
have devoted herself to so trying and dis- 
agreeable an occupation. She was an ac- 
complished young lady, possessing abundant 
means. She was happy at home, a general 
favorite, and the centre of an admiring 
circle. She was blessed with everything 
that might have made social and domestic 
life precious. 

But she abjured all such considerations,, 
and preferred to tread the one path that leads 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



421 



to suffering and sorrow. She had always a 
yearning affection for her kind. She taught 
in the schools, she visited the poor, and, 
when they were sick, she fed and nursed 
them. It was in a little corner of England 
that she lived and worked — Embley in 
Hampshire ; but one can do as much good 
work in secret as in the light of day. 

Her Heart in Her Work. 

The gay world opened before her. She 
might have done what other young ladies do 
in town. But her heart led her elsewhere. 
She took an interest in the suffering, the 
lost, and the downtrodden. She visited the 
hospitals, the jails, and the reformatory insti- 
tutions. While others were spending de- 
lightful holidays in Switzerland or Scotland, 
or by the seashore, she was engaged in a 
German nursing school or in a German hos- 
pital. She began at the beginning. She 
learned the use of the washing cloth, the 
scrubbing brush and the duster ; and she 
proceeded by degrees to learn the art of 
nursing. For three months she continued 
in daily and nightly attendance on the sick, 
and thus accumulated a considerable experi- 
ence in the duties and labors of the hospital 
ward. 

On Miss Nightingale's return to England 
she continued her labors. The Hospital for 
Sick Governesses was about to fail for want 
of proper management, and she undertook 
its care. She denied herself the affection of 
her home, and the fresh breath of the country 
air, to devote herself to the dreary hospital 
in Harley Street, where she gave her help, 
time and means to the nursing of her sick 
sisters. Though the institution was saved, 
her health began to fail under the heavy 
pressure, and she betook herself for a time 
to the health-giving breezes of Hampshire. 

But a new cry arose for help. The 



Crimean War was raging. There was a 
great want of skilled nurses. The wounded 
soldiers were lying at the hospitals on the 
Bosphorus almost uncared for. She obeyed 
her noble impulses, and at once went to 
their help. She embarked in a ship bound 
for Scutari. It was at great risk — at the risk 
of life, hardships, dangers and perils of all 
sorts. But who thinks of risk when duty 
impels the brave spirit ? Miss Nightingale 
undertook everything that was asked of her. 
She went into the midst of human suffering, 
nursed the wounded soldiers and sailors, 
organized the system of nursing, and under- 
took the control of the whole. 

Kissed Her Very Shadow. 
The wounded were inexpressibly relieved 
by the patient watching and care of the 
English lady. The soldiers blessed her as 
they saw her shadow falling over their pil- 
lows at night. They did not know her 
name; they merely called her " The Lady 
of the Lamp." 

" He sleeps ! Who o'er his placid slumber bends ?' 
His foes are gone, and here he hath no friends. 
Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace ? 
No ! 'Tis an earthly form with human face ! ' ' 

The soldiers worshipped the maiden lady. 
They forbore from the expression of any 
rough language that might hurt her. When 
an operation was necessary, they bore the 
agony without flinching. They did all they 
could to follow her advice and example. She, 
on her part, took quite an affection for the 
common soldiers. She not only looked 
after their personal comfort, but corre- 
sponded with their friends in England, in 
Ireland and in the far-away straths of Scot- 
land. She saved their money. She devoted 
an afternoon every week to receive and for- 
ward their savings to their friends at home. 



422 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



How thankful the soldiers were ! And how 
thoughtful and careful she was of them ! 

"The simple courage," she says, " the en- 
during patience, the good sense, the strength 
to suffer in silence — what nation shows more 
of this in war than is shown by our com- 
monest soldiers? Say what men will, there 
is something more truly Christian in the 
man who gives his time, his strength, his 
life if need be, for something not himself — 
whether it be his queen, his country or his 
colors — than in all the asceticism, the fasts, 
the humiliations, the confessions, which have 
ever been made; and this spirit of giving 
one's life, without calling it a sacrifice, is 
found nowhere so truly as in England." 
Thus we have much to learn from the life 
and example even of the commonest soldier! 

Another Heroine. 

Miss Stanley followed Miss Nightingale 
to the Crimea. A second detachment of 
fifty nurses and ladies were confided to her 
charge. She took them to Constantinople, 
and she remained in Turkey for four months, 
assisting in the naval hospital at Therapeia, 
and afterward in establishing the military 
hospital at Koulalee. 

When she saw the wounded soldiers 
brought from Inkerman, she wrote to a 
friend at home : " I know not which sight is 
the most heart-rending ; to witness fine 
strong men worn down by exhaustion, and 
sinking under it, or others coming in fear- 
fully wounded. The whole of yesterday 
was spent in sewing mattresses together, 
then in washing and assisting the surgeon to 
dress their wounds, and seeing the poor fel- 
lows made as comfortable as the circum- 
stances would admit of, after five days' con- 
finement on board ship, during which their 
wounds were not dressed. Out of the 
eleven wards committed to my charge. 



eleven men died in the night simply from 
exhaustion, which, humanly speaking, might 
have been stopped, could I have laid my 
hands upon such nourishment as I know 
they ought to have had." 

On Miss Stanley's return to England she 
devoted herself to befriending the soldiers' 
wives and widows. She purchased a house 
and garden in York Street, Westminster, 
where she founded a large industrial laun- 
dry. She obtained a contract from the gov- 
ernment for the supply of army clothing, 
and thus secured a large amount of employ- 
ment for the forlorn women. Miss Stanley 
threw herself with great energy into the 
relief and nursing of the women of the 
London poor. She was only one where 
there ought to have been ten thousand, but 
the true woman finds and does the work 
that lies nearest her. She gave her life 
daily to the service of others. She was an 
embodiment of self-sacrifice. 

Sublime Resignation. 

It did not matter whether she secured the 
approbation of others or not. To some, 
who wished to tread the steps she had trod, 
she said : " Never forget Dr. Arnold. I 
repeat his last entry in his journal to myself 
twice every day: ' Let me labor to do God's 
will, yet not anxious that it should be done 
by me rather than by others ; if God so wills, 
it should be.' " 

Good example always brings forth good 
fruits. Other ladies followed faithfully in 
the same steps. Among these may be 
mentioned Miss Florence Lees, who has not 
only nursed in the field, but taught to others 
the duties of scientific nursing. Strange 
how the first impulse to do a good thing 
springs up in the heart. It was the loss of a 
dear brother in China that nerved her for the 
effort. He had died in the naval hospital at 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



423 



Shanghai, and, as she thought of him, 
tended by strangers' hands, she felt a great 
longing to do for others what others had 
done for him. 

This happened when she was a girl. The 
late Bishop of Winchester was consulted. 
He said that it was too early to devote her- 
self to such a mission. "Wait until your 
grief has passed away, wait till your mind 
has matured." But her mind was possessed 
by resolution and hope. Miss Nightingale 
was her heroine. She consulted her, and ob- 
tained from her the best advice and help as 
to her training. At last, after three years' 
waiting, she entered St. Thomas' Hospital, 
and began her training as a nurse. She 
afterward went to King's College Hospital, 
and acquired valuable practical experience. 
To complete her knowledge of nursing she 
spent several years in Holland, Denmark, 
Germany and France. At Kaiserworth, in 
Germany, she passed through the usual prac- 
tical training of a nursing deaconess, and 
received a certificate as to her efficiency. 

In the Hospitals of Paris. 

Through the kindness of M. Hasson, the 
Director-General of civil hospitals in France, 
she obtained permission to work in the chief 
hospitals of Paris, under the charge of 
Roman Catholic Sisters. It was with great 
satisfaction to the Sisters, and with great 
happiness to herself, that she worked so 
harmoniously with them, notwithstanding 
their differences of religion and thought. 

The kindness of the Sisters to her, per- 
sonally, was beyond words. She was, in- 
deed, treated by them more as a sister and 
friend than as one separated from them by 
creed, country and secular life. In addi- 
tion to the practical knowledge thus gained, 
she learned from them many a lesson of 
quiet cheerfulness under difiliculties, of hope 



and trust in an overruling Providence, even 
when all things seemed going wrong, and of 
firm self-denial and an utter giving up of 
themselves and all that they had to Him 
whose they were and whom they served. 
Here, too, she learned what a virtue cheer- 
fulness is for all those who would serve and 
nurse the sick. 

A French Official. 

Miss Lees' last and most valuable train- 
ing was obtained through the kind permis- 
sion of General Leboeuf, then French Min- 
ister of War. Through his influence she 
was permitted to work in the French Mili- 
tary Hospitals, a training which was doubly 
valuable through the interest taken in her 
improvement by the late Michel Levy, the 
Director-General. He had been what he 
termed a "comrade" of Miss Nightingale ip 
the Crimea, and for her sake he made Miss 
Lees pass through a severer course of dis- 
cipline and training than, he admitted, would 
have been possible for any French Soeur or, 
as a general rule, for many Englishwomen. 
The practical experience, however, which she 
derived through the personal kindness of M. 
Michel Levy, was so valuable that in the 
course of her after life it was never forgotten. 

Shortly after her return to England after 
this long probation in nursing, war was de- 
clared between France and Germany. The 
newspapers were full of the results of the 
first sanguinary battles. The conquering 
army swept on and left the wounded to die. 
They lay in the open air by thousands, un- 
tended and uncared for. The nurse's heart 
was roused by pity and by sympathy. She 
at once set out for the Continent, accom- 
panied by three German ladies, but they 
were soon detached in different directions. 
She went across Belgium to Cologne, where 
she saw the wounded soldiers lying in rows 



424 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



along the station platform. Then to Cob- 
lentz and Treves, and then to Metz, which 
was her station. It was a rough journey 
when she left the steamer. In the midst of 
the confusion she had lost her baggage, but 
she was there herself alone. 

Marshal Bazaine had taken refuge in 
Metz, with a large body of French troops, 
and Prince Frederick was investing the city 
with an army of Germans and Bavarians. 
Miss Lees was appointed to a hospital at 
Marangue, in the rear of the investing army. 
She reached the place. It was only an old 
farm-steading. The barn was the hospital. 
It was a very comfortless place. The accom- 
modation was miserable. The nurse slept 
on a bit of sacking filled with straw. There 
was little medicine and less food. The prin- 
cipal disease to be encountered was typhus 
fever, occasioned by the dampness of the 
trenches. The Lazaretto or hospital accom- 
modated twenty-two beds ; and these were 
always full. 

In the Fever Hospital. 

The nurse of a field-hospital has no light 
task before her. When the men came in 
fever-stricken, they had first to be cleaned. 
When they came from the trenches, their 
feet were so incrusted with dirt that it had to 
be scraped off before they could be washed. 
When cleansed, they were put into their 
beds, and had medicine administered to 
them. There was the washing out of the 
men's blackened mouths, the attention to 
their personal cleanliness, the wetting of 
their heads by night to keep down delirium, 
bathing their hands and faces, changing their 
couches to prevent bed-sores — and all this 
in the midst of the most depressing circum- 
stances. 

The men sometimes became furiously de- 
lirious. Miss Lees has herself told the story 



of her life in the Fever Hospital before Metz, 
One night she was alone. She heard a 
noise in the room upstairs. She went up 
and found a deHrious soldier trying to force 
the door. The poor fellow wished to go 
home to his "liebe mutter." She called 
another patient to her help, and, telling him 
he would go home to-morrow, got him into 
his bed again. 

Another delirious soldier, down-stairs, 
searched for a knife under his bed-fellow's 
pillow. Miss Lees got hold of the knife, 
which was really there, and hid it in some 
obscure place. But, when the surgeon came 
round, she entreated that she might not 
again be left alone in the hospital at night. 

Appealed to the Crown Princess. 

The nurse worked there for many weeks'. 
Many died, some were cured and invalided 
home, and a few returned to duty. At last 
Bazaine surrendered ; his prisoners were sent 
into Germany, and the Red Prince and his 
troops marched on to the siege of Paris, 
Miss Lees had done her work at Metz, but 
her self-imposed task was not over. She 
was taken, partly on a locomotive engine, to 
Homburg, where she was put in charge of 
an hospital of wounded soldiers, under the 
superintendence of the Crown Princess of 
Prussia. The principal difficulty she had to 
encounter there was in securing proper ven- 
tilation. German doctors hate draughts. 
So soon as the nurse opened a window the 
doctors, in her absence, ordered it to be 
closed. She then appealed to the Crown 
Princess, and at length obtained the proper 
ventilation. 

It is unnecessary to follow the history of 
Miss Lees. After her return from Germany 
she prepared to make a voyage to Canada 
and the United States, to inspect the hospi- 
tals there. She accomplished her object in 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



425 



the winter of 1873, and saw everything that 
was to be seen at Halifax, Quebec, Mont- 
real, Toronto, Cleveland, New York, Bos- 
ton, Philadelphia, Washington and Anna- 
polis. 

Many women, young and old, nobly de- 
vote themselves to work such as this. They 
go into the courts and alleys of our towns 
and cities and nurse those who might lie and 
die but for their services. Neither hands 
nor their minds are stained by performing 
the humblest and most repeUing offices for 
their suffering fellow-creatures. Look at 
the noble examples of brave self-sacrificing 
women who, in our civil war, devoted them- 
selves on the battle-field to the care of the 
wounded and the dying. All the annals of 
heroism furnish no deeds more illustrious or 
more noble. The names of these devoted 
heroines are among the brightest in our 
country's history. 

The Profession of Nurse. 

Look also in our great hospitals and see 
the self-denying young women who are 
schooling themselves in the great art of 
nursing the sick. This is fast becoming a 
profession, and it illustrates the noblest and 
grandest qualities of womanhood. 

There is a great deal of heroism in com- 
mon life that is never known. There is, 
perhaps, more heroism among the poor than 
among the rich. The former have greater 
sympathy with their neighbors. A street 
beggar said that he always got more cop- 
pers from the poor street girls than from 
anybody else. Virtue commands respect 
even in a beggar's garb. 

"Men talk about heroes and the heroic 
element," says Mr. Binney ; "there is abund- 
ance of room for the display of the latter in 
many positions of obscure city life, and many 
of the former have lived and worked nobly. 



though unknown. The noblest biographies 
have not always been written. There have 
been great, heroic men, who have toiled on 
in their daily duties, and suffered, and sacri- 
ficed, and kept their integrity; who served 
God, and helped their connections, and got 
on themselves ; who have displayed, in all 
this, qualities of character, of mind, cour- 
age, goodness, that would have honored a 
bishop, a general, or a judge." 

The Rescue. 

Striking examples may be given — of men 
and women devoting themselves to rescue 
the lives of shipwrecked mariners at sea. A 
story comes to us from Western Australia 
telling us of the brave deeds of a young 
gentlewoman — Grace Vernon Bussell. The 
steamer Georgette had stranded on the shore 
near Perth. A boat was got out with the 
women and children on board, but it was 
swamped by the surf, which was running 
very high. The poor creatures were all 
struggling in the water, clinging to the boat, 
and in imminent peril of their lives, when, 
on the top of a steep cliff, appeared a young 
lady on horseback. 

Her first thought was how to save these 
drowning women and children. She gal- 
loped down the cHff — how, it is impossible 
to say — urged her horse into the surf, and, 
beyond the second line of the breakers, she 
reached the boat. She succeeded in bring- 
ing the women and children on shore. 
There was still a man left, and she plunged 
into the sea again, and rescued him. So 
fierce was the surf that four hours were 
occupied in landing fifty persons. 

As soon as they were on shore the 
heroic lady, drenched with sea-foam, and 
half fainting with fatigue, galloped off to her 
home, twelve miles distant, to send help and 
relief to the rescued people on the sea-beach. 



il 



ni 




The Bivouac of the Dead. 

''HE muiBed drum's sad roll has beat 

The soldier's last tattoo ; 
No more on life's parade shall meet 
The brave and fallen few. 
On fame's eternal camping-ground 

Their silent tents are spread, 
And glory guards with solemn round 
The bivouac of the dead. 

Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, 

Far from the gory field. 
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast 

On many a bloody shield. 
The sunshine of their native sky 

Shines sadly on them here, 
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by 

The heroes' sepulchre. 



Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone 

In deathless song shall tell. 
When many a vanished year hath flown, 

The story how ye fell ; 
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight. 

Nor time's remorseless doom, 
Can dim one ray of holy light 

That gilds your glorious tomb. 

Theodore O'Hara. 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



427 



Her sister now took up the work. She 
went back through the woods to the shore, 
taking with her a provision of tea, milk, 
sugar and flour. Next day the rescued 
were brought to her house, and cared for 
until they were sufficiently recovered to 
depart on their solitary ways. It is melan- 
choly to have to record that Mrs. Brook- 
man, the heroine's sister, took cold in the 
midst of her exertions, and died of brain 
fever. 

The Last Boat. 

Not less brave was the conduct of a young 
woman in the Shetlands, who went to sea to 
save the lives of some fishermen, when no 
one else would volunteer to go. A violent 
storm had broken over the remote island of 
Unst, when the fishing fleet — the chief stay 
of the inhabitants — was at sea. One by one 
the boats reached the haven in safety ; but 
the last boat was still out, and it was 
observed by those ashore that she was in 
great difficulties. She capsized, and the 
sailors were seen struggling in the water. 
At this juncture Helen Petrie, a slender lass, 
stepped forward and urged that an attempt 
to rescue them should be made at all 
hazards. The men said it was certain death to 
those who wished to put off in such a storm. 

Nevertheless, Helen Petrie was willing to 
brave death. She hastily stepped into a 
small boat. Her sister-in-law joined her; 
and her father, lame of one hand, went in to 
take charge of the rudder. Two of the 
crew of the fishing-boat had already disap- 
peared, but two remained, clinging to the 
upturned keel of their craft. It was these 
the women went to save. 

After great exertions, they reached the 
wreck. Just as they approached it one of 
the men was washed off, and he would cer- 
tainly have been drowned had not Helen 



caught him by his hair and dragged him 
into the boat. The other man was also res- 
cued, and the whole returned to the haven 
in safety. Helen Petrie afterward earned 
her bread in obscurity as a domestic servant, 
until her death some time later reminded 
people who knew her story of her existence. 
Heroines must, one would suppose, be 
abundant in a country where such a thing 
could happen. 

And Grace Darling ! Who can forget her 
— the heroic woman of the Longstone 
Lighthouse ? The desolate Fern Islands lie 
off the northeast coast of Northumberland 
— a group of stern basaltic rocks, black and 
bare, with a dangerous sea roaring about 
them. In stormy weather they are inaccessi- 
ble for day.3 and weeks together. They 
have no other inhabitants but the gulls and 
puffins that scream about the rocks. But on 
the farthest point, the Longstone Rock, a 
lighthouse had been erected to warn off the 
ships passing between England and Scot- 
land. Two old persons — a man and his 
wife — and a young woman, their daughter, 
were the keepers of the ' lighthouse, on a 
wild night in September, 1838. 

On the Rocks. 

The steamer Forfarshire was on its voyage 
from Hull to Dundee. The ship was in bad 
condition. The boilers were so defective 
that the fires had to be extinguished shortly 
after she left Hull. Nevertheless, she toiled 
on until she reached St. Abb's Head, when 
a terrible storm drove her back. She drifted 
through the night before the wind, until, in 
the early morning, she struck with tremen- 
dous force on the Hawkers rocks. 

The ship broke her back, and snapped in 
two. Nine of the crew took possession of 
a boat, and drifted through the only outlet 
by which it could have escaped ; they were 



428 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



picked up at sea and taken into Shields. 
Most of the passengers and crew were swept 
into the sea and drowned. The fore part of 
the vessel remained stuck on the rock ; it 
was occupied by nine persons, crying for 
help. 

Their cries were heard by Grace Darling 
at the lighthouse, half a mile off. It was the 
last watch before extinguishing the light at 
sunrise, and Grace was keeping it. Although 
the fog was still prevailing, and the sea was 
still boisterous, she saw the wrecked passen- 
gers clinging to the windlass in the fore part 
of the vessel. She entreated her father to 
let down the boat and go to sea to rescue 
the drowning people. William Darling de- 
clared that it would be rushing upon certain 
death. Yet he let down the boat, and Grace 
Darling was the first to enter it. The old 
man followed. Why speak of danger ? The 
chances of rescue, of self-preservation, were 
infinitesimal. But God strengthened the 
woman's arm, as He had visited her heart ; 
and away the two went, in dread and awe. 

The Nine Survivors. 

By dint of great care and vigilance the 
father succeeded in landing on the rock and 
making his way to the wreck, while Grace 
rowed off and on among the breakers, keep- 
ing her boat from being dashed to pieces. 
One by one the nine survivors were placed 
in the boat and carried to the lighthouse. 
There the mother was ready to receive them, 
to nurse them, to feed them, and to restore 
them to health and strength. They re- 
mained there for three days, until the storm 
abated, and they could be carried to the 
mainland. 

The spirit of the nation was stirred by the 
heroic act. Gifts innumerable were sent to 
Grace Darling. Artists came from a dis- 
tance to paint her portrait. Wordsworth 



wrote a poem about her. She was offered 
one hundred dollars a night to sit in a boat 
at the Adelphi Theatre during a shipwreck 
scene. But she would not leave her sea-girt 
rock. Why should she leave the light- 
house ? What place so fitting to hold this 
queen ? One who visited her speaks of her 
genuine simplicity, her quiet manner, her 
genuine goodness. 

Visit from a Duchess. 
Three years after the rescue symptoms of 
consumption appeared. In a few months 
she died, quietly, happily, religiously. Short- 
ly before her death, she received a farewell 
visit from one of her own sex, who came in 
humble attire to bid her Godspeed on her 
last journey. The good sister was the Duch- 
ess of Northumberland, and her coronet will 
shine the brighter for all time because of that 
affectionate and womanly leave-taking. Joan 
of Arc has her monument. Let Grace of 
Northumbria have none. The deed is regis- 
tered 

" In the rolls of Heaven, where it will live, 
A theme for angels when they celebrate 
The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth 
Has witnessed." 

On the mainland of Northumberland, 
nearly opposite the Fern Islands, stands the 
Castle of Bamborough, on a high triangular 
rock. In olden times it was a strong defence 
against the incursions of the Scots, as well as 
an important fortress during the civil wars of 
England. Of late years it has been used as 
a refuge for shipwrecked mariners, chiefly 
through the instrumentality of Lord Crewe, 
Bishop of Durham, and Archdeacon Sharpe. 
Lord Crewe's noble appropriation of this 
castle has been productive of more good 
than any private benefaction in this country. 
Shipwrecks frequently occur along the coast, 
and every possible aid is given to the suffer- 



HEROIS^I IN WELL-DOING. 



429 



ers. .'*._partinents are fitted up for thirty 
mariners. A constant patrol is kept every 
stormy night along the eight miles of coast, 
and if a ship appears in danger the life -boat 
is launched. During fogs bells are rung to 
keep off the vessels. 

When a ship is observed in distress a gun 
is fired, and a second time if the vessel is 
stranded or wrecked upon the rocks. At 
the same time a large flag is hoisted, so that 
the sufferers may know that their distress is 
observed from the shore. There are also 
signals to the Holy Islands fishermen, who 
can put off from the islands at times when no 
boat from the mainland can get over the 
breakers. Every help is given to those on 
land as well as at sea by this Samaritan 
Castle on the cliffs. 

Brave Ida Lewis. 

"Thus, like a mighty guardian angel," 
says WiUiam Howitt, " stands aloft this noble 
castle, the watching spirit over those stormy 
and perilous seas, and this godlike charity 
lives, a glorious example of what good a 
man may continue to do upon earth for ages 
after he has quitted it. When any one sees 
at a distance the soaring turrets of this truly 
sacred fabric, majestic in its aspect as it is 
divine in its office, dispensing daily benefits 
over both land and sea, let him bless the 
memory of Lord Crewe, as thousands and 
tens of thousands, in the depths of poverty, 
and in the horrors of midnight darkness, 
have had occasion to do, and as they shall do 
when we, like him, sleep in the dust." 

Worthy to rank with the immortal name of 
Grace Darling is that of our own Ida Lewis, 
whose courage often braved the storm and 
whose strong arm often pulled the oar, that 
meant rescue to the shipwrecked sailor. 
Daughter of the sea, she exhibited the 
noblest heroism in facing danger to save im- 



perilled Hves. No lines are fine enough in 
which to write herthrilling story. Thesimple- 
hearted girl was none the less womanly 
because made of iron fabric. She puts to 
shame the empty lives of multitudes of women 
who do nothing but eat, dress and die, with- 
out the record of one noble deed. 

Patience is the exercise 
Of saints, the trial of their fortitude ; 
Making them each his own deliverer, 
And victor over all 
That tyranny or fortune can inflict. 

John Mii,ton. 

For still we hope 
That in a world of larger scope, 
What here is faithfully begun 
Will be completed, not undone. 

A. H. Clottgh. 

But all through life I see a cross 
Where sons of God yield up their breath : 
There is no gain except by loss, 
There is no life except by death, 
There is no vision but by faith, 
Nor glory but by bearing shame. 
Nor justice but by taking blame ; 
And that Eternal Passion saith, 
Be emptied of glory and right and name. 

Oi,RiG Grange. 

It is related of the Duke of Wellington 
that when a certain chaplain asked him 
whether he thought it wofth while to preach 
the Gospel to the Hindoos, the man of dis- 
cipline asked, "What are your marching 
orders?" The chaplain replied: "Go ye 
into all the world, and preach the Gospel to 
every creature." "Then follow your orders," 
said the Duke; "your only duty is to 
obey." 

Though an unwelcome, an unpopular and 
a perilous duty, there have been found men 
in all ages who have followed the directions 
of their Saviour. Christ preached to the 
Jews and the Gentiles. St. Paul was the 
first missionary apostle. He founded churches 



430 



THE' CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



in the East, at Corinth, at Ephesus, at Thes- 
salonica, and elsewhere, and left his bones at 
Rome, where he had gone to preach the 
Gospel. 

The career of a missionary is the most 
dutiful and heroic of all. He carries his 
life in his hand. He braves danger and 
death. He lives among savages, sometimes 
among cannibals. Money could not buy 
the devotion with which he encounters peril 
and misery. He is only upheld by the mis- 
sion of mercy with which he is charged. 
What are called "advanced thinkers" have 
nothing to offer us for the self-imposed work 
of missionaries at home and abroad. Mere 
negation teaches nothing. It may pull 
down, but it cannot build up. It may shake 
the pillars of faith and leave nothing to hold 
by, nothing to sanctify, to elevate, or to 
strengthen our natures. 

Ready to Perish. 

But savage human nature is "vile." 
"How can they be vile to us," said Bishop 
Selwyn, "who have been taught by God not 
to call any man common or unclean? I 
quarrel not with the current phrases of 
'poor heathen' and 'the perishing savages.' 
Far poorer and more ready to perish may 
be those men of Christian countries who 
have received so much and can account for 
so little. Poorest of all may we be our- 
selves, who, as stewards and ministers of the 
grace of God, are found so unfaithful in our 
stewardship. To go among the heathen as 
an equal and a brother is far more profitable 
than to risk that subtle kind of self-righteous- 
ness which creeps into the mission work akin 
to the thanking God that we are not as 
other men are." 

How much are we indebted to St. Augus- 
tine, the first missionary into England, for 
our Anglo-Saxon liberty, our integrity, our 



learning, and even our missionary enterprise I 
At the end of the sixth century Augustine, 
or Austin, was consecrated by Pope Gre- 
gory, and entitled beforehand Bishop of 
England. He proceeded on his mission, 
and, after pjissing through France, he landed 
at Thanet, accompanied by a number of 
monks. He was received by Ethelbert, 
King of Kent, at Canterbury. The king 
had married a Christian wife, and, partly- 
through her influence, he became baptized, 
and was afterward admitted to the Church. 
The missionary labors of Augustine extended 
throughout the country until, at his death 
in 605, the greater part of England was re- 
deemed from paganism. 

A Famous Missionary. 

Missionaries entered the south of Africa 
and made their way to the north amid 
difficulties innumerable. They lived among 
the natives, and gave their minds and 
hearts and souls to them, endeavoring to 
bring them to a belief in the loving doctrines 
of Christianity. Men of education, accus- 
tomed to the comforts and conveniences of 
civilized life, endured privations of the most 
severe kind, which were all the harder to 
bear as they fell upon their wives and chil- 
dren. No motives of gain could support 
them in such a position. Dr. Moffat crossed 
the Orange River, in 1820, as a missionary 
to the Bechuana tribes. 

When Moffat went among these tribes he 
did not know their language, and he had 
none to teach him. Unmindful of their 
abominations, and fearless of their ferocity, 
he lived entirely among the natives. He 
walked, he slept, he wandered, he hunted, 
he rested, he ate, he drank with them, till he 
thoroughly mastered their language, and 
then he began to preach to them the Gospel. 
He labored on among difficulties and afflic- 



HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 



431 



tions of all kinds, occasionally attended 
by threats of murder, without any apparent 
tokens of success. 

At length they believed in him and in the 
healing words he taught. The once naked, 
filthy savages became clothed and cleanly. 
Idleness gave place to industry-. They built 
houses and cultivated gardens. Provisions 
for the wants of the mind kept pace with 
those of the body ; they reared schools for 
the young, and chapels for the old. And 
thus the work of education and religion 
rapidly advanced. 

Moffat was followed by Livingstone, his 
son-in-law, who gave his life to the same 
work. Livingstone opened up the heart of 
Africa, and trod the lands of savage tribes 
where the foot of the white man had never 
trod before. He travelled thousands of 
miles among savage beasts, and still more 
savage men, and was often delivered from 
danger almost by the "skin of his teeth ;" 
but he never doubted in the success of the 
Gospel, even among the degraded. He did 
not live to see the outbreak of war in South 
Africa, and to hear of the thousands of men 
who were slain in resisting the attempt to 
annex their territories — a most deplorable 
sacrifice of innocent lives. 



Men, even savage men, judge each other 
by their deeds, not by their words. Profess- 
ing Christians, like venders of bad coinage,, 
often expose genuine religion to suspicion. 
"In true kindness of heart," said Dr. 
Guthrie, "sweetness of temper, open-handed 
generosity, the common charities of life, 
many mere men of the world lose nothing 
by comparison with such professors ; and 
how are you to keep the world from saying, 
'Ah ! your man of religion is no better than 
others ; nay, he is sometimes worse ? ' 

"With what frightful prominence does this 
stand out in the never-to-be-forgotten answer 
of an Indian chief to the missionary who' 
urged him to become a Christian. The 
plumed and painted savage drew himself up 
in the consciousness of superior rectitude, 
and with indignation quivering on his lip 
and flashing in his eye, he replied, ' Christian 
lie ! Christian cheat ! Christian steal, drink, 
murder ! Christian has robbed me of my 
lands and slain my tribe ! ' Adding, as he 
haughtily turned away, ' The Devil, Christian I 
I will be no Christian ! ' May such reflec- 
tions teach us to be careful how we make a 
religious profession ! And having made the 
profession, cost what it may, by the grace ot 
God let us live up to it, and act it out." 



i 



1 




NATURE S BEVERAGF, 



432 



CHAPTE^R XXVIII. 
TEMPERANCE. 




NTEMPERANCE, like other 
vices, is deceitful and seductive. 
It frequently presents a beau- 
tiful exterior, while within it is 
all corruption, and as loath- 
some as a sepulchre, full of 
dead men's bones. Youth is 
charmed and cheated by it, and old age, it 
often covers with shame and disgrace. 

You have seen a calm cloud appear in the 
heavens in a clear day in summer. At a 
distance it looked beautiful. Its shining 
edges glittered with delusive splendor, and 
it moved up the sky as majestically as the 
chariot of Jehovah. As it approached, the 
beauty disappeared ; on man below, it cast 
dark, threatening glances ; the golden fringes 
vomited forth forked lightning ; and what 
afar, seemed mellow music, was soon found 
to be harsh and terrific thunder. Soon the 
tempest was abroad on earth. The beasts 
of the field fled for shelter to the shadow of 
the high rock ; the yellow harvest of the 
husbandman was swept away, and man him- 
self fled, a fugitive before the storm. 

Intemperance is like that cloud ! It 
promises shelter and shade to the thirsty 
spirit, but soon bursts upon human life with 
all the fury of the tempest. It sends its 
blast and sweeps its tide, into the domestic 
retreat, across tribunals of justice, and up to 
the very altars of the church of God. 

You have seen a serpent winding himself 
noiselessly through a bed of flowers, and 
anon lifting his crested head above the 
foliage, and sporting himself with many a 



gambol. You have admired his beauty, 
agility, and strength, and watched his move- 
ments with intense delight. Even the wild 
flowers which bloomed in his path, seemed 
to bend forward to kiss his beautiful form, 
and he in return moved aside, lest he should 
crush the fragile things, and scatter their tiny 
leaves. 

As you gazed, a mother and her child 
came on, and stooped to pluck those flowers. 
Then was the ferocious nature of the monster 
developed. Around those shrinking forms 
he coiled himself, and with a hissing sound 
struck them with his fangs. Crushed and 
wounded, the child and mother were left to 
die, while the splendid monster moved away, 
and was soon lost from view in the dense 
forest. 

An Inward Fire. 

Intemperance is such a serpent ! To youth 
it presents a beautiful exterior. The wine 
sparkles in the cup, and the gay festival 
attracts the unthinking throng. "At last it 
biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an 
adder." "Within its coil the victim groans 
and writhes in agony, until the poison, like 
boiling blood, flows through all his veins, 
reaching his brain and setting his soul on fire. 

You have seen the ocean calm and tran- 
quil. As far as the eye could reach not a 
ruffle disturbed the surface of the waters. 
Like a sea of glass, it reflected the form of 
every bird which took passage over it, and 
gave back from its clear bosom, the polished 
beauty of the heavens above. Invited by 

433 



434 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



the serenity of ocean and sky, the mariner 
launched his vessel, and spread his canvas to 
catch the gentle breeze. 

Soon a change came on. The wind blew 
like the hurricane. The waves tumbled and 
foamed upon each other. The ship plunged 
and quivered, and strained in the trough of 
the sea. Sunken rocks now lifted their huge 
forms and sharp peaks high above the water, 
and anon were buried deep, by the mountain 
billow. Morning came ; and a vessel, with- 
out mast, or rudder, or sail, or chart, or 
compass, or crew, floated upon the bosom of 
the surge. 

A Baseless Dream. 

Intemperance is like that ocean ! To the 
youthful voyager it seems as calm and placid 
as a sea of glass. But as he ventures out; 
as the green hills of sobriety disappear, the 
waves of destruction begin to dash around 
him ; the whistling blasts of poverty make 
frightful music ; the moaning of the pitiless 
storm disturbs his dream of pleasure, and 
ere long he is tossing, an unmanageable 
wreck, upon the sea of temporal and eternal 
ruin. To point out the dangers of the sea 
of intemperance, and utter a solemn warning 
to the young, will be the object of the 
present chapter, and while I do this, I 
request your serious and candid attention. 

I need not stop to prove that our young 
men need caution upon this point. Although 
the temperance reformation has laid its heavy 
blows upon the shivering sides of the domin- 
ion of king Alcohol, his throne is not yet 
overturned. His dark, infernal empire still 
stands. The frowning fortress from which 
he hurls firebrands, arrows, and death, still 
lifts its front in the midst of the Christian 
community, and on every side, are monu- 
ments of his dreadful conquests. 

True it is, that intemperance has been 



driven from the marriage festival, and the 
chamber of mourning ; from the pulpit of 
the minister, and the bench of the judge ; 
but unabashed, it has sought out other 
homes, and laid its snare for new victims. 
What then, we ask, are the solemn warnings 
which intemperance gives to young men ? 

The drunkard shall come to poverty. 
Poverty in itself, is not a crime. No dis- 
grace belongs to the man, who by reverses 
in business, is led down from affluence to 
destitution. The poorest man who walks 
this earth of sorrow, or who toils in vain to 
clothe and feed his children, can stand in the 
presence of the man of millions, with no con- 
sciousness of inferiority. But when poverty 
is the result of crime, it becomes at once 
sinful and disgraceful ; when it is the result 
of gambling, or drinking, or lying, it covers 
its victim with a robe of shame. Under any 
circumstances it is exceedingly unpleasant 
and inconvenient to be very poor, and by 
most men, poverty is dreaded as one of the 
worst of evils. 

Poverty and Misery. 

Now poverty is as sure to follow a course 
of intemperance, as light and heat to follow 
the rising of the sun. God has so ordained. 
In His word He has declared that the 
drunkard shall come to poverty, and wher- 
ever we behold drunkenness, we also gaze 
upon squalid misery. Go into any commu- 
nity and you will find affluence to be the 
result of sobriety, and destitution the sure 
attendant of dissipation. You will expect 
to find in the neat, vine-covered cottage, a 
frugal, temperate man ; and in the hovel, 
unpainted and desolate, the windows shat- 
tered, the doors unhinged, an intemperate 
and dissipated man. 

So universal is this fact, that we expect a 
young man to ruin himself, squander his 



TEMPERANCE. 



435 



property, become idle and worthless, when 
he commences a course of intemperance. 
We predict with almost unerring certainty, 
that a few years will make him a pauper or 
a criminal, and leave him in a mad-house or 
prison, the victim of his crimes. The 
wretched beings, who sometimes reel along 
our streets, the sport of boyhood and the 
shame of manhood ; the miserable creatures, 
who hide in cellars, and barrooms, and 
taverns, were once as respectable as those 
who now walk the earth, with proud step 
and lofty look. 

Warnings Not Heeded. 

But forgetting the declaration of the Al- 
mighty, " the drunkard shall come to pov- 
erty," they took the social glass, and drank 
its contents. The pledge was disregarded, 
and the warnings of temperate men, un- 
heeded. Step by step, they descended from 
respectability and affluence to wretchedness 
and woe. Property was wasted, and char- 
acter sacrificed. Self-respect took its flight, 
and those who were once the enterprising, 
industrious, hopeful young men of our 
country, are now the reeling, staggering in- 
habitants of dens and caves of infamy. 

One such case came under my own ob- 
servation. A young man, with whom I was 
intimate in childhood, became intemperate. 
When a boy, he had a generous heart and a 
noble disposition. We all loved him, and of 
our circle, he was the pride and ornament. 
Friends looked to him with the highest an- 
ticipations of his future usefulness. When 
at a proper age he commenced business, and 
for awhile was exceedingly prosperous. The 
little property, which he had at first, in- 
creased, and he was looking forward to 
wealth and affluence. 

In an unfortunate hour, he learned to 
drink the social glass, and drain the madden- 



ing bowl. Kind friends hung around him, 
and presented their remonstrances ; the 
church of which he was a member, uttered 
its kindest warnings; an aged mother hung 
upon his steps with prayers and tears. 
Heedless of them all, he clung to his boon 
companions and his cups. " I shall never 
become a drunkard," he said; "I can con- 
trol my appetite ; your fears are vain." 

Soon business was neglected. The little 
fortune which he had accumulated was scat- 
tered to the blast, and discouraged and dis- 
heartened, he became a drunkard. The 
associates of his early days stood aloof; the 
church, with many tears, and after many 
fruitless efforts to reform him, withdrew the 
hand of fellowship ; his mother died of a 
broken heart, and the young man himself, 
mortified and ashamed, fled from the scenes 
of his youth and the companions of his child- 
hood. 

On a Bed of Straw. 

One morning a messenger called at my 
door, and asked me to visit a young man in 
distress. Amid the peltings of the pitiless 
storm, I hastened to the place where he was, 
I found the street, the house — if house, the 
wretched tenement could be called. Up into 
the third story, I traveled, amid dirt and 
filth, and entered the chamber to which I 
was directed. In a cold room, on a bed of 
straw, covered with a single moth-eaten 
blanket, burning with fever, tortured with 
rheumatism and delirious with drink, was 
stretched a young man. I could not recog- 
nize his countenance or recall a single feat- 
ure. 

" I do not know you," I said to him. He 
cast on me a look of agony, and replied ; 
"Good God, has intemperance blotted out 
my manHness and made me so much a 
demon that my early associates do not 



436 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



know me?" Then he covered his face, and 
wept aloud. 

His story is soon told. He was the 
young man, who in early life had given such 
promise of usefulness. To one degree after 
another in his fatal habit he had advanced, 
until his money was gone, and he was a 
pauper. To the city he had wandered in 
search of employment, and here I found 
him, in the condition which I have described, 
with both feet frozen, and none to minister 
to his wants. In the wretched dwelling and 
among the more wretched occupants, he 
found no sympathy. He learned in all the 
bitterness of his spirit that the drunkard will 
come to poverty. 

The End Sure to Come. 

I would not affirm that every case of in- 
temperance will end like this, or that the 
destruction of every intemperate young man 
will be as speedy and as awful. But sooner 
or later poverty will crush the spirits of 
every man who " looketh upon the wine 
when it is red," or who goeth after strong 
■drink. He may bear up against it for 
awhile, but it will ultimately overthrow him. 
It will perplex and disturb his business ; it 
•will mortgage his house and his farm ; it 
will place an attachment upon his stocks ; it 
will ruin all his prospects for this life and the 
life to come. 

Intemperance ruins the physical constitu- 
tion. In the creation of the body, God has 
displayed infinite wisdom. More wonderful 
than any complicated work of human hands, 
it bears the impress of divinity. It is fear- 
fully and wonderfully made, and is*a speci- 
men of workmanship, unrivaled in the arts. 
The Maker of man did not form him thus 
fearfully, in order that he might be broken 
by disease, and crushed by vice. He made 
him upright. He stamped the blush of 



health upon his cheek, and sent him forth to 
look upon the earth beneath his feet, and the 
heavens above his head. 

You have seen a beautiful machine, fulfill- 
ing the purpose of its maker, and working 
with order, regularity and harmony. You 
have examined it closely, and admired the 
perfection of all its parts. You have com- 
plimented the skill of the artisan, and 
deemed his work, one of extraordinary inge- 
nuity. You have also seen that machine dis- 
arranged ; the order and harmony of its 
movements gone, and entirely incapable of 
performing the work for which the maker de- 
signed it. 

The human body under the influence of 
intemperance, is like that disarranged and 
broken instrument. The purpose of its 
creation is defeated, and it becomes the seat 
of numberless diseases, aches and pains, 
sorrows and woes, for which God never has 
intended it. 

Old Before His Time. 

The drunkard presents a fearful specimen 
of a broken-down man. From the head to 
the feet, he is covered with disease. He 
moves along the street, with downcast eyes, 
or staggers to and fro, with heavy tread ; 
his nerves are all unstrung, or braced beyond 
endurance ; his head aches and throbs ; his 
bloated face spoils the beauty of a human 
being ; his knees totter and smite against 
each other ; his livid lips are closed over 
teeth decayed ; his swollen tongue prevents 
his ready utterance ; his idiotic look, be- 
tokens speedy death ; his eye glares at one 
time, and is languid and bloodshot at an- 
other ; and his brain is racked with a thou- 
sand fancies, and agonized by a thousand 
fears. 

Go search earth's darkest caves, and bring 
up to the blaze of day, the inmates of your 




THANKSGIVING 



(437) 



438 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



prisons and dungeons ; your insane asylums 
and mad-houses, and none will you find so 
miserable and degraded, so lost to all that 
makes up a perfect man, as the victim of in- 
temperance. Take some case within the 
limits of your own observation ; some friend 
who tampered with the terrible destroyer, 
and has been ruined. 

You knew him perhaps, when no shade of 
crime had passed over his manly counte- 
nance ; when he walked with his head erect, 
and his bosom bared to the storms of life : 
when life flashed from his eye, and vigor was 
in his step ; when the stranger noted his 
manly form, and correct deportment. You 
have seen that form bend, not with age ; you 
have seen that step falter, not from fear, and 
that once noble form reeling from the drunk- 
ard's purgatory, to lie besotted and beast-like 
by the wayside. You have seen everything 
noble and beautiful in this God-made body, 
utterly spoiled ; the divinity in man crushed 
out of him, and the temple of the immortal 
50ul laid in ruins. 

An Empty Boast. 

Nor will young men avoid this terrible de- 
struction of the human system, if they enter 
the fatal avenues which lead to the drunk- 
ard's fate. They may suppose that they 
have power to drink, or refrain from drink- 
ing. They may boast how strong they are, 
and how easily they can dash the inebriating 
cup to the earth. But their boasts are idle 
as the wind. The great army of drunkards 
with crippled limb, limping form, bleeding 
heart, and maddened brain, thousands of 
whom die every year, utter their notes of 
warning. The broken, diseased, death- 
struck forms of prostrate men, as they lie 
along the path of life, give fearful admoni- 
tion. 

The opening graves, into which the re- 



mains of men are tumbled after they have 
cursed themselves and all around them ; 
graves on which the flowers seem unwilling 
to bloom, and over which the birds appear 
to sing in sadness, graves wet by no widow's 
tears, consecrated by no orphan's lament ; 
graves which angels shun, or by which they 
weep in sorrow, as on their mission of mercy, 
they pass through the city of the dead, all 
sound the alarm, and by the dumb eloquence 
of their speechless harmony, bid the living 
throng beware of the drunkard's hopeless 
doom. 

What the Demons 'Wrote. 

You remember the famous dream or vision 
of a distinguished clergyman. Dr. George 
B. Cheener, of Salem, Mass., for the publica- 
tion of which, he was beaten in the street 
and imprisoned. The scene was said to be 
in Deacon Giles' Distillery. The dreamer 
saw the demon-workmen at their unhallowed 
employment, manufacturing with great zeal 
the elixir of death. He heard their fero- 
cious and blasphemous expressions. While 
he gazed on, barrel after barrel of the 
accursed poison was drawn from the cistern 
and prepared for sale. 

The employment of one or more of the 
fiends was, to mark and label these barrels 
and hogsheads of rum and gin, which had 
been put up. Quenching a coal of fire in 
the liquid which he had made, the infernal 
monster went to work. On all the barrels, 
in letters which would remain invisible until 
the first glass was drawn, and then burn 
forth like fire, he wrote, "consumption," 
"palsy," "fever," "plague," "insanity," 
"madness," "redness of eyes," "sorrow of 
heart," "death," " damnation," and the like 
expressions, which, when the liquid death 
had been sold, and the buyers drew from it 
for the first time, flashed out in the faces of 



TEMPERANCE. 



439 



the thirsty customers, who stood waiting 
around the bar. 

With fearful consternation they saw 
written in words of flame, the diseases which 
they knew were preying upon their systems, 
and fled from the place in terror. 

What that dreamer saw in vision, we 
behold an existing fact. Though on the 
barrels in the rumshops, we do not find the 
words of fire written there by demon hands, 
yet we behold more fearful inscriptions on the 
living, dying countenances of men who walk 
our streets. Gleaming forth from fiery eyes; 
seen on the wan and haggard cheek ; read 
in the stooping forms and staggering tread ; 
heard in the hollow cough; felt in the aching 
head, and beating heart, proving to us that 
intemperance 

"Is palsy, plague, and fever, 
And madness all combined," 

are the fearful inscriptions of death and dam- 
nation. 

The Curse of Home. 

Intemperance poisons domestic felicity. 
The sacredness of home has often been 
made the subject of discourse. Scarcely a 
person reads this, whose heart has not 
beat quickly, at the mention of the endear- 
ing word. Home — it is associated with all 
the pleasant scenes of childhood and youth ; 
with the names of companions, whose coun- 
tenances are now forgotten ; with the prayers 
of parents and the love and kindness of 
brothers and sisters, who are now sleeping 
in the grave. Nor, until human nature be 
changed, will this love of home be entirely 
destroyed. 

Men who wander far away, over ocean 
and land, who journey from cHme to clime 
as fugitives and wanderers, look back with 
pleasant emotions to a spot which they call 



their "home." But intemperance, like 
gambling, is calculated to corrupt home, 
poison its joys and wither its flowers. Many 
a family has been made wretched and miser- 
able by intemperance. The fire on many a 
hearth has been put out by the drink of 
death. Indeed, intemperance so transforms 
a man's character that he is not prepared to 
fulfill the relations which exist between him 
and his family. 

Changed Into a Tyrant. 

However kind he may be when sober, 
hov/ever he may provide for the wants of his 
family, if he is an intemperate man, he can- 
not be a good husband or a good father. 
The thing is impossible. Drink transforms 
the kind and indulgent sire into the harsh, 
unjust and crael tyrant. Men, who when 
sober are affectionate and pleasant, become, 
under the influence of inebriation, fierce and 
wicked. 

Awhile since I became acquainted with a 
family, the head of which was a kind, inof- 
fensive man, who loved his wife and his chil- 
dren with a pure affection. He was one of 
those peculiar men whose hearts are full of 
kindness for all around. He was, to some 
extent, an intemperate man, and when 
drunken was the very reverse of what he 
was in his sober moments. On one occa- 
sion he returned to his home in a state of 
intoxication, and for awhile sat brooding by 
the fire, silent and stupid. 

Soon his son came in, a little, bright, in- 
telligent boy of six years. The child at 
school had received the commendation of 
his teacher, and in his joy had hastened 
home to repeat the words of kindness to his 
parent. Somewhat boisteriously he rushed 
into the room, and, with eyes glistening with 
delight, threw himself into the father's arms. 
That brutal sire, changed from friend to 



410 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



fiend, uttered a fearful oath, threw the child 
from him, struck lym in the face, and dashed 
him to the earth. What other acts of 
violence he would have committed we know 
not. 

The mother seized her child, the blood 
gushing from his nose and mouth, two of 
his teeth gone, and fled with him to the 
house of a neighbor. When reason re- 
turned, had that father committed murder, 
he could not have been more penitent. He 
cursed his cups, and yet clung to them. He 
cursed the man who sold him drink, and 
still hung about his workshop of death. He 
wept and prayed over his child, and still 
continued in the habit which caused the 
injury. 

Not long ago the papers gave an account 
of a frightful murder. A husband, who in 
his sober moments was kind to his compan- 
ion, in a fit of intemperance, had destroyed 
her life, and sent her spirit to the bar of 
God. Notwithstanding his vow to be her 
support and protection, he caused her death. 
With his own hands he beat and mangled 
her form, until the vital principle was gone, 
and then retired to bed to sleep the drunk- 
ard's sleep and dream the drunkard's dream. 

A Source of Endless Trouble. 
Is man bad enough, with all his depraved 
powers and passions, to accomplish deeds 
like this, without the aid of reason-robbing 
drink ? No ; crushed as human nature is 
by sin, it needs some artificial stimulant to 
bring it up to a point, where it can sever so 
recklessly the dearest ties of nature, and 
commit crimes, at which cruelty itself revolts. 
And we find intoxicating drink furnishing 
just the excitement which is required to 
induced husbands to imbrue their hands in 
the blood of their wives, and fathers to de- 
stroy the lives of their children. We find 



intemperance leading to family disturbances 
and social discord. We find it to be the 
cause of sorrow in households, and divisions 
between companions who have lived plea- 
santly for years. 

Intemperance impairs the intellect, and 
produces idiocy and madness. There is a 
strong sympathy between the physical and 
mental parts of man. One acts upon the 
other. If the body is diseased, the mind is 
also found to be in an unhealthy condition. 
If the mind is unhinged or thrown from its 
balance, the body suffers accordingly. The 
intellectual is more valuable than the physical. 
It will endure when the body has decayed, 
and will continue to be, after the material 
structure has disappeared. 

Shining Talents Dimmed. 

Now intemperance acts directly upon the 
mind itself, and indirectly through the 
medium of the physical constitution. The 
injury done to mind by this vice, is beyond 
all calculation. Men of strong and vigorous 
intellect have been bowed by it ; shining 
talents have been dimmed and tarnished, 
and the fairest prospects of intellectual great- 
ness blasted by its fatal influence. The 
legal and medical professions, and even the 
ministry, have lost some of their brightest 
ornaments, and been robbed of some of their 
choicest jewels, to gratify the lust of this 
accursed Moloch. 

Memory now recalls the form and coun- 
tenance of 'one, who a few years since, bid 
fair to stand among the first orators at the 
bar. His professional, services were held in 
high estimation; as an orator he was enthu- 
siastically applauded ; as a profound scholar, 
an able statesman, a clear and vivid writer, 
he had but few superiors. The political 
party of which he was a member, nominated 
him for a seat in Congress, and but for the 



TEMPERANCE. 



441 



fatal habit of intemperance, he would have 
been elected. 

But all the hopes of his youth were to be 
disappointed. The love of strong drink 
grew upon him ; he was seen in a state of 
intoxication in the court-room ; confidence 
in him was soon lost, and now if you will 
visit the city of his birth, you will find the 
wreck of the once polished lawyer and 
accomplished statesman. His once powerful 
intellect is shattered, and although he was, 
but a few years since, the pride and admira- 
tion of the bar, he dares not now attempt an 
argument in open court. 

An Appalling Record. 

A hundred other cases equally plain and 
pitiable might be produced. The history of 
intemperance is full of them, and on every 
page of its fearful record can be found the 
names of men, who have fallen from the 
highest summit of intellectual greatness, to 
the lowest depths of degradation and infamy. 
The ravages of intemperance in its last stages 
are fearful indeed. The mind becomes en- 
tirely overthrown, and loses all power of 
self-control. Like a ship without rudder, 
or chart, or compass, it plunges on the ter- 
rible waters of a deep, dark sea. 

He who would see the intellect entirely 
dethroned, and hell begun on earth, must 
visit the bed of a man suffering with the tor- 
ment of delirium trenieiis. The poor sufferer 
is haunted by every image of terror, he sees 
horrid shapes, he hears horrid sounds. 
Images, which no mortal man ever conceived 
of before, start up, and throng around him. 
Satan with all his legions come racing up 
from pandemonium to hold their infernal 
conclave in his chamber, beside his dying 
bed. Ghosts of murdered men drag their 
bleeding bodies from the grave and lay them 
at his feet. 



He sees — he hears — he feels everything 
dreadful. Each figure on the wall becomes 
a fiend, which looks upon him with glaring 
eye ; the friends who move about the room 
in tearful silence, are to his disordered fancy, 
pale spectres, who cry avaunt, and shake at 
him their long, bony fingers ; the blanket 
which covers him, he imagines to be a huge 
snarl of snakes and reptiles woven together,, 
and feasting on each other. Inconceivable 
terror takes possession of him ; he starts 
from his bed in anguish ; he bids the fiends 
begone, and hears only their mockery. He 
utters heart-rending cries, which echo far 
down the street at midnight ; he pleads with 
his physician to tear the strangling serpents 
from his throat, to drive away the demons, 
who have come to torment him before his 
time. 

The Madness of Drink. 

In what prison or mad-house can you find 
insanity like this ? In what lone cell, or 
dark chamber, can you find madness which 
equals that of the dying drunkard ? In the 
darkest secrets of human misery the delirium 
tremens has no counterpart, and as a source 
of unspeakable anguish and unmitigated 
misery, it stands alone, unrivalled by any- 
thing this side of perdition. 

Suppose you, a man should build houses 
on the corners of every street, that from 
their doors and windows he might let loose 
upon the unthinking populace, mad dogs of 
every size and tribe, to bite the people, and 
spread the poison of disease throughout the 
whole community ; what would be thought 
of him ? Why, the law would lay its heavy 
hand upon his murderous vocation, close 
his doors, and drag him to some place of 
confinement. 

And here are men found on almost every 
-Street whose sole business is to let loose 



442 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



upon society insanity and madness in their 
worst forms, who send their rum dogs, mad 
as Satan, to bite with venomed tooth the 
loveliest members of our families, whose 
trade is to spread among men, the worst 
kind of hydrophobia, and make war alike 
upon the bodies and the souls of our fellow- 
creatures. 

Pitfalls and Snares. 

In all villages and cities, young men are 
exposed to numberless temptations. On 
every side are the snares of the enemy, and 
from the gay saloon with its glittering orna- 
ments, to the low hovel of wretched inebria- 
tion, are found the sources of intemperance 
and vice. Beside the open and known 
resorts of infamy, are secret dens and caves 
in which the wicked hide themselves, and 
into which the young are decoyed and 
ruined. 

A friend entered one of the most public 
buildings in one of our cities, and came to 
the door of a room which refused him 
entrance. He discovered a secret spring, 
and touched it. The door flew open, and he 
saw in full operation the bar, and the gaming- 
table. Congregated there in the broad day, 
and yet concealed from human view, were 
the wretched beings who make crime a 
pastime and sin a recreation. And other 
such places there are in all our large cities, 
whose sole object is the destruction of the 
young. To these facts it is worse than mad- 
ness to blind our eyes. They meet us on 
every hand ; they stare us in the face at 
every turn we take. 

Young men, it devolves on you to say 
what shall be the future history of the tem- 
perance reformation. It devolves on you to 
say how far the burning waves of intemper- 
ance shall sweep on, and where they shall be 
stayed. I therefore call upon you, in the 



name of common humanity, to arise in all 
the vigor of youth, and manliness, and arrest, 
if possible, the tide of ruin which is sweep- 
ing over the beauty of our land. We need 
warm hearts and willing hands. The mon- 
ster with whom we have to contend, is more 
powerful than kings and emperors, and will 
not be defeated without a struggle. 

Come then to the work of humanity ; the 
work of God. It will ultimately triumph, 
and intemperacce will be driven from the 
world. We may toil long against the evil, 
but victory will eventually crown our labors. 
It is the cause of human happiness, and 
would reflect glory upon the angels of God, 
were they permitted to engage in it. Be not 
discouraged, though little may seem to be 
effected. 

Go Ahead. 

Never doubt a righteous cause ; 

Go ahead ! 
Throw yourself completely in ; 
Conscience shaping all your laws, 
Manfully through thick and thin. 

Go ahead ! 
Do not ask who'll go with you ; 

Go ahead ! 

Numbers? spurn the coward's plea ! 
If there be but one or two, 
Single handed though it be, 

Go ahead ! 
Though before you mountains rise. 

Go ahead ! 
Scale them ? certainly you can ; 

Let them proudly dare the skies ; 
What are mountains to a man ? 

Go ahead ! 
Though fierce waters round you dash. 

Go ahead ! 
Let no hardship baffle you : 
Though the heavens roar and flash, 
Still undaunted, firm, and true. 

Go ahead ' 

George A. Light. 

Invoke the assistance of " God o'erhead," 




THE MAN WHO BLOWS HIS OWN TRUMPET. 



443 



444 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and do your duty well, and when the course 
of life is run, and the last hour of human 
probation arrives, you will look back upon 
your efforts to stay the tide of crime, and 
save the drunkard from temporal and eternal 
destruction, with high and holy satisfaction. 
Angels will whisper in your ear of men 
redeemed from vice and crime, and by your 
hand plucked as brands from the burning. 

Such tidings will be sweeter music to your 
worn spirit, then all the anthems of the 
earth, and though borne upon the blast, or 
wafted on the gentle breeze, the flourish of 
trumpets, or the melody of the organ, may 
disturb the silence of your death-chamber, 
the memory of your good act, will kneel by 
your dying couch, and do its homage there, 
and breathe upon you a sweeter strain than 
can be purchased by the wealth, the honors, 
the noisy pomp and parade of empires. 

The Coming Man. 

The coming man will bravely stand. 
Without the wine-glass in his hand, 
A sun-crowned chieftain of the land ; 

A landmark, like the lofty pine, 
Which lifts on high its plumes of fir, 
Whose root no fickle winds can stir ; 
He, like an upright worshipper, 

Will never stoop to taste of win€ 

Strong of body, strong of soul, 

Firm of purpose to control, 

He will spurn the tempting bowl 

In the shadow of the vine. 
No taint of wine in his full brains. 
No trembling hand will hold the reins 

When he who rules shall drink no wine. 
George W. Bungay. 

Not many years since, a young married 
couple from the far "fast-anchored isle" 
sought our shores, with the most sanguine 
anticipations of prosperity and happiness. 
They had begun to realize more than they 
had seen in the visions of hope, when, in an 
evil hour, the husband was tempted "to 



look upon the wine when it was red," andtO' 
taste of it when it gives color in the cup." 

The charmer fastened around his victim 
all the serpent spells of its sorcery, and he 
fell ; and at every step of his rapid degrada- 
tion from the man to the brute, and down- 
ward, a heart-string broke in the bosom of 
his companion. Finally, with the last spark 
of hope flickering on the altar of her heart, 
she threaded her way into one of these 
shambles where man is made such a thing 
as beasts of the field would bellow at. She 
pressed her way through the bacchanalian 
crowd who were revelling there in their owa 
ruin. 

" That My Husband ! " 

With her bosom full of " that perilous 
stuff that preys upon the heart," she stood 
before the plunderer of her husband's des- 
tiny, and exclaimed in tones of startling 
anguish, " Give me back my husband ! " 
"There's your husband," said the man. 
" That my husband ! What have you done 
to him ? That my husband ! What have 
you done to that noble form that once, like 
a giant oak, held its protecting shade over 
the fragile vine that clung to it for support 
and shelter ? That my husband ! With 
what torpedo chill have you touched the- 
sinews of that manly arm ? That my hus- 
band ! 

" What have you done to that noble brow, 
which he once wore high among his fellows,, 
as if it bore the superscription of the God- 
head ? That my husband ! What have 
you done to that eye, with which he was 
wont to look erect on heaven, and see in its 
mirror the image of his God ? What 
Egyptian drug have you poured into his 
veins, and turned the fountains of his heart 
into black and burning pitch ? Give me 
back my husband! Undo your basilisk 



TEMPERANCE. 



Ut 



spells, and give me back the man that stood 
Avith me beside the altar ! " 

Somewhere lives a small farmer of such 
social habits that his coming home intoxi- 
cated was once no unusual thing. His wife 
urged him in vain to reform. "Why, you 
see," he would say, " I don't like to break 
off at once ; it ain't wholesome. The best 
way is always to get used to a thing by 
degrees, you know." " Very well, old man," 
his helpmate would rejoin, " see now if you 
don't fall into a hole one of these days, while 
you can't take care of yourself, and nobody 
near to take you out." 

Not Too Suddenly. 

Sure enough, as if to verify the prophecy, 
a couple of days after, returning from a 
glorious frolic, the old fellow reeled into his 
own well, and, after a deal of useless scram- 
bling, shouted for the " light of his eyes " to 
come and help him out. " Didn't I tell you 
so?" said the good soul, showing her cap 
frill over the edge of the parapet ; " you've 
got into a hole at last, and it's only lucky 
I'm in hearing, or you might have drowned ! 
■"Well," she continued, after a pause, letting 
down the bucket, " take hold." 

And up he came higher at every turn of 
the windlass, until the old lady's grasp 
slipping from the handle, down he went to 
the bottom again. This occurring more 
than once, made the temporary occupant of 
the well suspicious. " Look here," he 
screamed, in a fury at the last splash, 
"you're doing that on purpose — I ^Jtow 
you are ! " 

" Well, now, I a7/z," responded his old 
woman, tranquilly, while winding him up 
once more, " didn't you tell me it's best to 
get used to a thing by degrees ? I'm afraid 
if I was to bring you right up on a sudden, 
you wouldn't find it wholesome." The old 



fellow could not help chuckling at her 
appHcation of his principle, and protested he 
would sign the pledge on the instant if she 
would lift him fairly out. This she did, and 
packed him off to " swear in," wet as he was. 
A great drunkard in the Highlands of In- 
verness-shire was led to attend a lecture on 
Temperance, and was induced to become a 
member of a temperance society. For 
months the craving of his appetite for strong 
drink was e.xcessive; but, true to his resolu- 
tion, he set his face like a flint against every 
temptation. The marsh of his heart being 
thus drained of one poison, he next received 
the seed of the Word into its soil. It was 
hid there until quickened by the sun of 
righteousness, and nourished by the rains 
and dews of the Spirit, when it brought 
forth fruit in Christian life and character. 

Queen Victoria and Donald. 

Having no settled occupation, he yet 
could not be idle ; and having by the help of 
a few friends managed to stock a little box 
with trinkets and other cheap ware, he set 
out as a pedlar. In the course of his pere- 
grinations, he found himself at Balmoral, 
and thinking that if he could get the pat- 
ronage of the Queen, it would help him 
greatly, he resolved to make the attempt. 
There was something in his look and man- 
ner, which at once commended him to the 
favor of some of the household officials, 
who had it in their power to put him under 
the notice of the Earl of Carlisle, then 
attending the court as a Minister of State. 

The noble earl, with his usual frankness and 
goodness of heart, sympathized with Donald, 
and promised to recommend his case to the 
Queen. When Her Majesty came to know 
it, Donald was commanded to appear in the 
royal presence, and met with a most graci- 
ous reception. Not only did the Queen 



446 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



purchase his wares, but gave him permission 
to wear the royal arms as the Queen's ped- 
lar, and sent Donald away with a lighter 
heart and a heavier purse than he had when 
he entered the royal chamber. 

On leaving, the Earl of Carlisle took him 
to his room, and there Donald was presented 
with a glass of wine with which to drink the 
Queen's health. Looking at it, he felt at 
first a kind of trembling, but then, lifting his 
heart in prayer for Divine aid, he said : 
"Your lordship will excuse me; I cannot 
drink the Queen's health in wine, but I will 
drink it in water." The noble earl asked his 
reasons. 

" My lord," said Donald, " I was a drunk- 
ard ; I became an abstainer, and I trust by 
God's grace I have become a Christian ; but 
I know that if I were to taste intoxicating 
drink, it would at once revive an appetite 
which is not dead but dying, and I should 
most likely go the whole length of the 
drunkard again. God has only promised to 
support me in the path of duty, and that 
path, in my case, is plainly to abstain." 

The noble earl at once commended Donald 
for his frankness and honesty, and in taking 
leave assured him that it would afford Her 
Majesty the highest satisfaction to know that 
she had amongst her loyal and devoted sub- 
jects one who, in the midst of such strong 
temptations, could maintain his principles 
with integrity and honor. Donald left re- 
joicing to think that he had been enabled to 
"drink" to the glory of God. 

Work of Temperance. 

It's a work of prevention and cure ; 
A work for the rich and the poor ; 
A work that is slow and yet sure ; 
A work whose effects will endure. 
Then shout for it, hearer and preacher ; 

Shout for it, master and man ; 
Shout for it, scholar and teacher ; 

Praise it wherever you can. 



That intemperance is a vice of the most 
deplorable kind, and that it is productive of 
fearful consequences, not only to the victims 
themselves, but to their friends and families, 
is a fact that no intelligent individual will 
deny. The life of the habitual drunkard is 
one of misery, remorse, agony and shame. 
He is, in some sense, the mere sport of a 
demon. However kind, gentle and generous 
he may be in his rational, thoughtful and 
temperate moments, the chances are as a 
thousand to one that when laboring under 
the influence of the intoxicating draught, he 
will either become an idiot, a brute or a 
fiend. 

All sense of propriety will be forgotten, 
all dignity of character will be thrown aside, 
and the wretched sot or madman will play 
such fantastic tricks as to make him a buf- 
foon and the sport of the heartless, or 
grovel so low as to render it necessary for 
him to be concealed from the public gaze 
and the popular scorn. 

Wanderers and Vagabonds. 

How many hearts have been lacera.ted, 
how many hearths have been made desolate, 
how many families have been impoverished, 
how many beings have been hurried into un- 
timely graves through the agency of intem- 
perance ! The catalogue, if it could be ob- 
tained, would present a terrible array, indeed. 
Fond and favorite sons have become out- 
casts, wanderers and vagabonds, and doting 
parents have wept tears of blood over the 
prostrate, the fallen and the degraded. Char- 
acter has been destroyed, health has been 
impaired, and even murder has been 
prompted and perpetrated through the 
agency of this terrible infirmity. 

Can we wonder, then, that ever and anon 
the good and the wise throughout the land, 
seeing- the wreck and the havoc that are 



TEMPERANCE. 



447 



produced by the wine-cup, should rouse 
themselves to an intense appreciation of the 
evils and the terrors of intoxication, and 
should make an extraordinary effort to era- 
dicate, or, at least, .to modify, so desolating 
and destructive a vice ! And yet the poor 
drunkard is often to be pitied. He is, him- 
self, the keenest sufferer, and whenever per- 
mitted to pause in his downward career, and 
to contemplate the ignominy of his position, 
he must feel " all the tortures of the 
damned." 

In many cases, too, he would repent, ab- 
stain and retrace his footsteps, if a fitting 
opportunity were afforded, and he could 
exercise the moral power. It should be 
remembered that some of our most enlight- 
ened physicians regard intemperance as a 
disease, and urge that it should be treated 
accordingly. That it is so in many cases, 
we have not a doubt. Who, indeed, has 
not known of individuals, with the brightest 
prospect before them, surrounded with 
every comfort and luxury, accomplished, 
talented and powerful, and yet so wedded to 
this one infirmity, so overcome and con- 
quered by this subtle demon, as to have gone 
on step by step, plunging deeper and more 
downward into the fatal abyss, until reputa- 
tion was sullied, fortune was impaired, and 
life itself was sacrificed. 

There are again, not a few of the erring, 
the struggling and the indigent, who are 
scarcely masters of themselves. They give 
way before the first blow of misfortune, and 
in the excitement of the moment, they fly 
to the maddening yet Lethean draught, as 
to their last and only solace. And when 
once the fatal step is taken, when once the 



reason trembles and totters, when the brain 
becomes inflamed, and the eye illumined by 
an unnatural glare — who may tell the con- 
sequences ? 

And is there no remedy? Can none of 
these unfortunates, these guilty, these reck- 
less and despairing victims of a vile habit, 
be rescued from such a fearful career, and 
restored to the ways of well-doing ? Is the 
system that has heretofore been pursued the 
right one ? Should the poor drunkard be 
sent to the prison or the almshouse, and 
thus at once degraded and punished ; or 
should an effort be made to admonish, per- 
suade, reform and cure him ? There cannot 
be a doubt as to the proper policy under the 
circumstances. 

While we denounce the vice, let us 
endeavor to do something for the victims. 
While we regard " inebriety as a great mis- 
fortune and a great sin," let us remember 
that we are all erring, human, finite and falli- 
ble beings, and that we owe it to society and 
humanity, to step aside from the ordinary 
paths of life, to penetrate the hovels, the 
alleys and the by-ways, if thereby we can 
rescue and relieve a fallen brother. " None 
are all evil," and even the poor drunkard, 
despised, contemned and derided, as he, too, 
generally is, may yet have, within his mind 
and his heart, a lingering spark of generosity 
and virtue, that only requires to be fanned 
by kindness, sympathy and benevolence, to 
kindle it into a bright and regenerating 
flame. 

And let an outraged public sentiment rise 
up and declare that the infamous traffic shall 
be forever suppressed and driven from this 
fair land of ours. 



m 




448 



CHAPTPKR XXIX. 
GOOD HEALTH. 




^ HE preceeding pages have been 
describing and recommending 
the cardinal virtues. Do not 
consider it out of place to 
include with these the duty 
of good health. Can it be, 
then, that good health, which 
is always considered a gift, is after all a duty, 
or rather, can it be that it is your duty to 
have good health and to preserve it ? 

Most emphatically do we say that the care 
and preservation of health is a moral duty, 
and must be ranked among the cardinal vir- 
tues — that is, among the virtues which are 
the most important and essential to our well- 
being. Be prepared, therefore, for some 
plain words upon this subject. 

You have no right to neglect your health, 
or to do the least thing that shall injure it, 
or to trespass on it one hair's breadth, or 
ignore those plain and simple rules by 
which alone you can have a sound body. 
And depend upon it, without a sound body 
you cannot have a sound mind or a sound 
rehgion. I believe that half the doubts in 
the Christian life are due to dyspepsia. Your 
whole sky grows dark and cloudy, because 
you had something for breakfast you could 
not digest. Do you think this is an extrava- 
gant statement? If it is not true, you will 
hav.- to look a long time for anything that is 
true. 

Emerson says : " The first wealth is 
health. Sickness is poor-spirited and cannot 
serve anyone." 

Dio Lewis says: "The building of a 
29 



perfect body, crowned by a perfect brain, is 
at once the greatest earthly problem and 
grandest hope of the race." 

Says Longtellow : "If the mind that rules 
the body ever so far forgets itself as to 
trample on its slave, the slave is never gen- 
erous enough to forgive the injury, but will 
rise and smite the oppressor." 

Bulvver says very pithily : " There are 
two things in life that a sage must preserve 
at every sacrifice, the coats of his stomach 
and the enamel of his teeth. Some evils 
admit of consolations, but there are no com- 
forters for dyspepsia and the toothache." 

Health and Hope. 

There is an old Arabian proverb that 
says : "He who has health has hope ; and 
he who has hope has everything." 

It is said by one of our best known 
authors upon practical subjects : " Few things 
are more important to a community than the 
health of its women. If strong is the frame 
of the mother, says a proverb, the son will 
give laws to the people. And in nations 
v.'here all men give laws, all men need 
mothers of strong frames." 

Says Bickerstaff : " Health is the greatest 
of all possessions ; a pale cobbler is better 
than a sick king." 

Doctor Johnson says : " Health is so> 
necessary to all the duties as well as pleas- 
ures of life, that the crime of squandering it 
is equal to the folly." 

" Crime," does Doctor Johnson say? 
You thought crime was something com- 

449 



450 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



mitted against the laws of the land. Crime 
is forgery, or theft, or perjury, or murder. 
For crime men are arrested, tried in court, 
sentenced to prison, perhaps hung by the 
neck until they're dead. But there is 
another crime for which men are not 
arrested, but perhaps will be in the year 
2000. It is the crime of violating the laws of 
health. It is crime committed against your 
own physical strength, against your rest, 
against your brain, against your nerves, in 
short, against yourself — that self which 
comes from God, which was meant for 
happiness, which feels every abuse and which 
should be cared for, developed, urged on to 
the highest perfection and become the 
noblest specimen of manhood or woman- 
hood. 

Too Much Head Knowledge. 

It is strange that so much needs to be 
said and written upon a subject that so 
deeply affects us all. One reason of it is 
ignorance — ignorance dense and dark as 
midnight. The great majority of people 
have never been taught as they ought to 
have been how to take care of the body. 
We take the young, and as turkeys are 
stuffed before Thanksgiving, so we cram 
them with verbs and fractions and geography 
and all the 'ologies — some things that they 
will need, and a thousand others that will 
never do them any good — yet we neglect to 
tell them what to eat and how to eat it, what 
is the advantage of work and exercise, what 
time to go to bed and how long to sleep, 
what to do in order to be healthy and strong, 
and so they grow up knowing everything, 
yet knowing nothing. At least, they know 
very little of what is of the very first import- 
ance and value. 

To be sure, we hear and read a great deal 
about athletics. The colleges have their 



contests which often endanger life itself. 
This overdoing the thing is quite American. 
We rush to the extreme in almost everj^- 
thing. We want to get rich in a day. We 
wish to mount to the top of the ladder at a 
single bound. We take our seat in a railway 
car, pull out a watch and wonder why we are 
not there. We are waiting for the time to 
come when we can sail from New York to 
Queenstown in three days. If that time 
ever comes, we shall talk about this slow 
travelling and curse the steamship com- 
panies because they cannot make that little 
distance in two days. 

Robust Women Wanted. 

But instead of overdoing athletics, let the 
athletics have their proper place, not only in 
our schools and colleges, but also among 
the people at large. Don't let woman be the 
frail, pale, dehcate creature she always is in 
poetry and pictures. It is nothing against 
her to have an arm which would put to 
shame that of a washerwoman. It would 
be nothing against her dignity to have a 
muscle like that of an athlete. She would 
be more of a woman if she could walk 
twenty miles a day, row a boat five miles on 
a stretch, ride a horse equal to the best 
cavalryman, sit gracefully on a bicvcle, and 
without unduly straining her muscles, keep 
pace with the smart trotter whose owner 
proudly remarks that " he never takes any- 
body's dust." Do you think there is any- 
thing indelicate about all this ? Better a 
thousand times such indelicacy than that 
narrow-chested, pale, thin, headachy, dys- 
peptic, whining, good-for-nothing woman- 
hood which is a disgrace to the sex and an 
insult to the God whose sweetest blessing is 
health and happiness. 

Yet there is something to be thankful for. 
There is a tremendous waking-up of public 




HEALTH AND BEAUTY 



452 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



sentiment upon this matter, and let all the 
world say amen. It is no longer considered 
a waste of time for boys to run and romp, 
and play ball, learn to swim, and pride them- 
selves on being pedestrians. " Keep to your 
books and your business," used to be said. 
We say so too, for books and business are 
among the main objects of life. But we do 
say, and we expect you to have sense 
enough to say, take exercise, breathe God's 
fresh air, open your lungs to the winds that 
blow, call on every muscle of j^our body and 
tell it to wake up ; and do this for the sake 
of books and business as well as for the sake 
of a long life and the enjoyment that life 
was intended to give. 

Avoid the Abuse. 

In truth it must be said that to overdo 
athletics is just as pernicious as not to do 
athletics at all. The doing — no fault can be 
found with that ; the overdoing — there is 
the source of all the trouble. It is nothing 
against the benefits of proper exercise that 
some lazy youth, who could not keep on his 
capacious feet, got his skull cracked in a 
game of foot-ball. It is nothing against 
• good sports that two young athletes came 
into collision and had to send for a doctor. 
It is nothing against eating a good meal that 
some stuffed glutton cares for nothing but 
eating, and wastes all his physical energy in 
digesting turkey and plum-pudding. We 
are too apt to see the abuse of a thing ; the 
abuse is nothing against the proper use. The 
truth is, young people are active, fond of life, 
always are in motion, in short, act out the 
impulses of nature. If it had been intended 
that they should be tied down and have no 
liberty, they would have been born with a 
tether to tie them up with. 

While, therefore, no good can come from 
a mad wild pursuit of athletic sports, the 



exercise of all the bodily functions within 
proper limits is not only desirable, but is; 
really a moral duty ;, it is one of the cardi- 
nal virtues. 

It is a happy thing that public interest has. 
been awakened on this subject. We are 
beginning to see that it is a hollow mockery 
for a man to pray and yet violate the laws of 
health. We cannot serve God by prayers, 
and praises while we are sinning against our- 
selves. What is the harm in seeing a minis- 
ter or deacon who is robust and hearty — 
one who has a most ungenteel appetite, who- 
is broad in the chest and ruddy in the face,, 
and impolite enough to eat ail that is placed 
before him ? What is the harm in his being 
a picture of health ? 

No Piety in Rheumatism. 

It used to be thought that pale people 
with indigestion and headaches came nearest 
to being sanctified. It was supposed there- 
was something very heavenly about them. 
They looked as if they were going into a 
decline and getting ready to bid the world 
farewell. Now, understand that pale religion 
is not one wit better than healthy religion. 
In fact it is worse. No man can pray so 
well as the one with a good digestion, and 
no woman can sing hymns so well as the one- 
who is not afflicted with catarrh. There is 
no piety in rheumatism. To enjoy your 
blessings to the fullest extent you must be 
well and hearty. Whatever people may 
think, there is no real affinity between pills, 
and piety. 

But some people do not deserve to have 
good health. They have all sorts of aches, 
and infirmities, and they ought to have. 
They are careless to the verge of rashness. 
They expose themselves to wind and: 
weather ; they run constant risks ; they dose- 
themselves with patent medicines that are 



GOOD HEALTH. 



453 



enough to wreck any constitution, and then 
wonder why they feel so miserably. They 
have a pain in the side ; they have headaches 
especially on Sunday ; they are always down 
in the dumps and complaining of their bad 
feelings, which can be accounted for easily 
enough. If they would take care of them- 
selves and obsei-ve the simplest rules of 
health, they would not always be whining 
about their "bad feelings." Persons who 
abuse themselves must expect to suffer from 
that abuse. 

The Rules of Health. 

What, now, are some of the simple and 
most important rules of health ? 

The cavity of the Mouth should be 
cleaned frequently and thoroughly, in order 
that taste and digestion may not be inter- 
fered with by accretions upon its membrane. 
It should be protected, besides from injury 
by bones, by too hot food and by other 
harmful agencies, for these might cause in- 
flammation and ulceration of the mucous 
membrane, and chewing as v/ell as swallow- 
ing would then be interfered with. 

The Teeth are frequently attacked by dis- 
ease. Hollow teeth and the bad odor caused 
by them could easily be avoided by proper 
cleansing of the mouth. The teeth should 
be protected from vegetable parasites as well 
as from the accumulation of tartar ; these 
should be removed as quickly as possible, or 
their bad effects counteracted. After each 
meal the teeth should be brushed with 
alcohol or cologne, to prevent the particles 
of food remaining in the mouth from decom- 
posing, for these decomposing remains of 
food form a hot-bed for the growth of para- 
sites, which, however, the alcohol will 
destroy. After this some innocuous powder, 
such as chalk, egg-shells, bi-carbonate of 
soda or other alkali, may be used with the 



brush, in order to prevent the formation in 
the mouth of acids, which will attack the 
teeth. 

The use of charcoal in cleaning the teeth 
is less agreeable, and should be advised with 
hesitation ; while ashes must be used under 
no consideration, in spite of their property 
of rendering the teeth white, for they de- 
stroy the enamel, and so facilitate decay. 
Healthy teeth, like healthy fat in man, are 
not perfectly white, but have a yellowish tint. 
Those who find it impossible to clean their 
teeth during the day, should at least not 
neglect to clean them after the last meal, 
for the long interval from then until morn- 
ing gives abundant opportunity for the de- 
posit and putrefaction of foreign substances. 

Care of Teeth and Gums. 

The diligent and systematic brushing of 
the teeth with a brush which is not too stiff" 
is conductive to the health and beautiful 
color of the gums. Gums which have not 
been brushed for a long time lapse into a 
condition of morbid swelling, irritability and 
sensitiveness : when the use of the brush is 
resumed, therefore, they will become cov- 
ered with blood, a condition, however, which 
will disappear after the brushing has been 
repeated a few times. The unbrushed and 
neglected gums resemble the so-called 
"proud flesh," which bleeds with equal 
readiness, and which also needs to be hard- 
ened and cauterized. 

The Throat and mouth ought to be kept 
clean for another important reason. It is 
this, that various and numerous germs of 
disease constantly enter here, and either 
remain or pass beyond. These should be 
gotten rid of by gargling the throat, espe- 
cially in the morning, with some disinfectant 
solution prescribed by the family physician. 
This is to be done in the usual manner 



454 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



by throwing the head backward and driving 
air through the water audibly. 

Besides these germs of disease, there may 
also adhere to the throat shells, hulls, fish- 
scales, crumbs of dry pastry, powdered 
pepper (which causes far more irritation than 
whole pepper), and other particles capable of 
giving much annoyance. The irritation pro- 
duced in the throat and air passages by 
mustard, mixed pickles, vinegar, spirits, and 
by strongly seasoned food, may be amelior- 
ated by adding to them milk, eggs and 
honey, as is customary in Austria and Poland. 

Uncleanly Habits. 

Sweet foods and certain sour ones, which 
are liable to injure the teeth, maybe neutral- 
ized in a similar manner, the remaining par- 
ticles being carried away by succeeding mild 
food and drinks. The proper preparation 
and succession of food and drink is of great 
importance, as all substances which irritate 
the throat also injure it and bring it into 
a favorable condition for the invasion and 
adhesion of the germs of disease. 

A farther source of injury to the mouth 
lies in the excessive use of tobacco, espe- 
cially when accompanied by frequent expec- 
toration. The fact should not be overlooked 
that the saliva is a very important digestive 
fluid, that it is formed from the blood, and 
that a waste of saliva amounts to a positive 
loss of blood. 

It is a curious fact that many people, who 
are scrupulously clean as far as their skin is 
concerned, are quite indifferent in regard to 
the cleanhness of their mouths, although 
the cleansing of the mucous membrane of 
the mouth is, in a certain sense, the more 
important of the two. 

Every mother should see that her chil- 
dren keep their mouths clean, and should 
teach them to rinse and gargle both morning 



and evening, as well as after each meal. Im 
treating affections of the throat, gargling 
with certain solutions plays an important 
part, and children should be taught how to 
gargle while in health, and at as early an 
age as possible, because it is very difficult to 
teach them after they have fallen sick. 
Mothers should also know how to inspect 
the mouth and throat, and, if need be, they 
should be taught by the family physician to 
do so. It is always better, especially if 
diphtheria is about, to call a physician in 
time, and this is made possible when the 
throat is inspected every morning. 

One more warning we must not omit. 
Never allow your child to be kissed on the 
mouth, if indeed at all. Teach him to turn 
and hold his cheek in response to a visitor's 
advance. 

Injury from Overeating. 

In order to keep the Stomach in a healthy 
condition, avoid filling it unreasonably and 
frequently with great quantities of food or 
drink. Heavy, indigestible food should be 
shunned, while, on the other hand, it will not 
do to be too timid in regard to the heartiness 
of a meal. Treat your stomach as you 
would any other organ : it should be made 
hardy and strong, without being overworked ; 
but it should by no means be allowed to 
become weak and peevish from having its 
tasks made too easy. Too much work 
weakens not only the external muscles, but 
the muscles of the heart and stomach as 
well. A reasonable amount of work, how- 
ever, insures good digestion and a hardy 
stomach. 

The liquid and liquified matter in the 
mtestines enters the blood by way of the 
capillaries tributary to the portal vein. This 
vessel carries it to the liver, after modifica- 
tion in whose structure it passes through the 



GOOD HEALTH. 



455 



lower vena cava into the right side of the 
heart. In order to promote quick incorpora- 
tion of digestive material in the systematic 
circulation the flow of blood in the portal 
vein should be as rapid as possible, an end to 
be attained by preserving a healthy liver, by 
full inspirations and by certain movements of 
the abdominal muscles, while it may be far- 
ther promoted by careful regulation of the 
bowels and by drinking water freely during 
disgestion in order to dilute the thick blood 
of the portal vein. Decomposition of the 
contents of the intestines is prevented by the 
presence of the bile, which at the same time 
dilutes the digested masses and neutralizes 
the excess of acids formed in them. 

Necessity of Pure Air. 

Respiration is indispensable to the human 
organism, since it provides the oxygen with- 
out which we could not live. Health is in 
danger as soon as we begin to breathe an 
impure air, or as soon as the function of the 
respiratory organs is in any way disturbed. 
We should, therefore, take care to breathe 
fresh and pure air only, and to protect our 
lungs and chests from becoming disordered 
in any way. The first requirement towards 
accomphshing this end is a sufficient supply 
of oxygen. 

The atmosphere of a hall where many 
people have been congregated for a length 
of time is rendered impure by their exhala- 
tions, so that breathing becomes difficult and 
oppressive, and health may be actually im- 
paired. The injurious effect is due not 
merely to the carbonic acid gas which every 
person exhales and which accumulates in 
such rooms, but also, according to recent 
investigations, to a certain gas, probably 
nitrogenous, which has not yet been defi 
nitely ascertained. The deleterious condition 
of the atmosphere in such rooms is farther 



aggravated by gas-lights, by perspiration and 
other exhalations from the skin, and by 
various forms of excrementitious matter. If 
the heating apparatus is not in proper work- 
ing order, certain gases of combustion are 
liable to escape unperceived and still farther 
to vitiate the atmosphere. 

An adult requires a little more than one 
gallon of pure air every minute : a single 
gas-jet consumes as much oxygen as twelve 
persons would require, a common iron stove 
double this amount. Ventilation is the best 
and, in fact, the only means of obtaining 
pure air. Opening doors and windows, 
therefore, can alone change the vitiated air 
of the interior for pure fresh air from the 
outer atmosphere. All rooms where a large 
number of people assemble should have ar- 
rangements for easy and thorough ventila- 
tion. Schools, manufactories, shops, large 
meeting-rooms and halls should never be 
overcrowded, and their atmosphere should 
be completely renewed every day. Simple 
fumigation is of no value for this purpose : 
ventilation can be effected only by a complete 
change of air. 

Your Sleeping Apartments. 

The room which demands most careful 
attention in this respect is the sleeping apart- 
ment. Bedrooms should be light, sunny 
and spacious, and there should be constant 
change of air, a window, either in the bed- 
room itself or in an adjoining room, being 
partly opened at night. Babies' clothmg 
should not be hung up to dry in a bed- 
room, nor should soiled clothes be kept 
there. 

Plants and flowers in large numbers should 

not stand in the bedroom, as they exhale 

carbonic acid gas during the night ; in draw- 

mg-rooms, parlors and sitting-rooms, on the 

I contrary, plants with large leaves are bene- 



456 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



ficial, because in the light of the sun they 
exhale oxygen and absorb carbonic acid 
gas. 

The most dangerous gases mixed with 
atmospheric air are carbonic acid and car- 
bonic oxide. One-half of one per cent, of 
the latter, if contained in the inspired air, 
will prove fatal, after a limited time, to men 
and animals. It is the fatal constituent of 
illuminating gas. Other dangerous gases are 
marsh gas and sewer gas, the latter espe- 
cially proving fatal at times to those whose 
work lies in or about sewers. These gases, 
by entering an apartment slowly and im- 
perceptibly, as they usually do, endanger 
health and life. Probably their effect is due 
in part to their affinity for oxygen, which 
causes a reduction of the oxygen of the 
blood corpuscles, weakening the whole 
system and predisposing it to infection. 

Life in the Open Air. 

Air containing much Dust is unhealthy. 
Especially does it affect young and growing 
persons and those who have weak lungs. 
For those who are forced from some cause 
to remain for any length of time in a room 
filled with dust particles the best protection 
is a respirator. 

Smoke in the air, tobacco-smoke in partic- 
ular, is deleterious to the respiratory organs. 
Persons who are apt to become hoarse, or 
who are disposed to cough, should take 
pains to avoid rooms filled with smoke. Life 
in the open air, particularly in the woods, is 
an effective means to the preservation of 
health and a powerful restorative in chronic 
diseases. The favorable influence of trav- 
eling and of life at sanitariums and health 
resorts in many instances seems chiefly due 
to the amount of time spent in the open air. 

Living in narrow and dark rooms, where 
the breathing space is small and fresh air is 



deficient, proves very injurious to health, 
especially when many persons are crowded 
into one room. By such a manner of living 
the constitution is sure to be undermined 
sooner or later, and the individual to be- 
come a prey to incurable disease. The 
remedy in such cases consists, not in medi- 
cine, but in fresh air, exercise, and nutritious 
food. Children suffer most from want of 
fresh air, whether in school or at home. 

Exercising the Lungs. 

Those who follow sedentary occupations 
should seek the open air as often as possible, 
but should be careful about exposure to 
heat, cold, wet, and dust. The effect of 
breathing fresh air is intensified by methodi- 
cal exercise. Simple lung gymnastics con- 
sist in a number of full respirations. To 
ventilate the lungs, so to speak, in this 
manner, the best time is from two to three 
hours after a full meal, because then the ex- 
halation of carbonic acid gas is at its height. 

Since sound lungs are only to be expected 
in a normally developed chest, the latter 
should be protected from the various in- 
fluences which tend to decrease its capacity. 
Sometimes a deformity is inaugurated during 
the first hours of life by the bad habit some 
nurses have of bandaging an infant with 
unreasonable tightness, a custom as earnestly 
to be deprecated as that of tight lacing in 
later years. All other constrictions by 
strings or belts are quite as much to be 
avoided. 

One word here about the Corset. We 
do not wish to be considered its irreconcila- 
ble enemy ; it is its abuse only which must 
be condemned. A corset with very soft, 
elastic stays is not only comfortable to the 
wearer by supporting the bust and giving 
strength and stamina to the whole body, but 
it has also the effect of improving the figure 




HEALTH-GTVIXG RECREATION. 



457 



458 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and rendering it agreeable to the beholder. 
A tightly laced waist, however, is exceed- 
ingly unhealthy and far from beautiful. 

The practice of Gymnastics, or Calisthen- 
ics, as they are more commonly called 
among us, not only tends to expand the 
chest and lungs, but serves also to 
strengthen the heart, causing its muscular 
elements to become strongly developed and 
its contractions more forcible and regular. 
It must always be understood, however, that 
exercise, as well as work, should not be in- 
dulged in to excess. 

Exertion and Rest. 

Only moderate, well-regulated exercise in 
pure air, or bodily work executed under 
similar conditions, is capable of strengthen- 
ing the heart and lungs, and, by improving 
the circulation, the tissues of the whole 
body. An important consideration in this 
respect is the maintenance of a proper 
balance between exertion and rest. If mus- 
cular effort is continued too long, the effect 
on the muscles is the same as that of pro- 
longed rest ; they are weakened and finally 
become unfit for any exertion. 

The skin does its share in the work of 
purifying the blood by means of its gaseous 
exhalations and of the perspiration. Its 
other functions are numerous. It protects 
the sensitive nerve ends through whose 
agency we experience the sensation of touch, 
and it is the great regulator of animal heat. 
Still another use is that of respiration : 
Aubert has shown by experiment that the 
skin gives off carbonic acid and absorbs 
oxygen. 

For these reasons it is important that it 
should be well cared for. The temperature 
of the body is regulated by the evaporation 
upon its surface : the heat necessary for the 
evaporation of the water in the capillaries of 



the skin is drawn from the general heat- 
supply of the body. The greater the amount 
of evaporation, therefore, the greater is the 
reduction of temperature, and vice versa. 
This regulation of bodily heat is assisted to 
a certain extent by the hair upon the skin, 
and by the dress. 

The principal requirement for a normal 
action of the skin is cleanliness. To this 
end frequent Bathing and change of cloth- 
ing are indispensable. In cold weather, 
however, it is not advisable to wash the 
exposed portions of the skin, the face and 
hands, too often, nor even to wash them in 
cold water at all. Lukewarm water should 
always be made use of, together with a mild 
soap, the alternative being the chapping of 
the hands and face, and even the appearance 
of salt rheum or eczema upon the skin. 
When frequent washings cannot be avoided 
in the winter time, the exposed portions 
should be rubbed with freshly prepared cold 
cream, vaseline, or glycerine. 

Vapor Baths. 

A vapor or hot air bath may be indulged 
in now and then as a means of thorough, 
cleansing ; but it should never be undertaken 
by persons affected with lung or heart 
diseases, and therefore never without the 
advice of a physician. 

The Hair of the scalp and beard must be 
properly cared for. The use of some fatty 
substance, preferably an animal, not a vege- 
table fat, is beneficial. 

The stronger the individual constitution, 
the thicker, as a general rule, will be the 
hair, while in sickly persons and those 
whose blood is thin the hair is badly nour- 
ished and in poor condition. The fatty 
matter, which naturally exudes from the 
skin and permeates the hair, causes it to 
remain moist, soft, and pliable, while without 



GOOD HEALTH. 



459' 



it all the water contained in the hair would 
evaporate and leave the hairs dry and friable- 
The careful removal of dandruff, which owes 
its origin mostly to dust and to the use of 
certain kinds of pomade, is absolutely neces- 
sary to the growth of the hair and to its 
proper lubrication by the fatty matters of the 
skin. 

The condition of the scalp, therefore, is of 
very material importance to the growth of 
the hair. Washing the scalp with spirits is 
unwise, since it causes great irritation : a 
much better plan is to use the yolk of an 
egg or diluted honey. Girls and women 
should never tie their hair too tightly, nor 
should men and boys wet theirs nor have it 
cut too often. 

Danger of Taking Cold. 

Of all the vicissitudes our skin is called 
upon to endure the most frequent and the 
most carefully to be guarded against is 
Exposure to Cold. An intense cold, a wind, 
or a draft of air striking the skin while hot 
and perspiring, causes not infrequently a 
sudden contraction or dilation of the blood- 
vessels in some particular organ, resulting in 
what we call " taking cold." A cold may 
be contracted, however, from agencies of 
much slower operation, as, for instance, from 
wearing too thin clothing, from throwing off 
the covers while sleeping during the night, 
from sleeping next to a cold wall without 
protection from it, from living for a long 
time in cold and damp apartments, from 
standing in water while at work, or from a 
damp, cold atmosphere. 

Sheep's wool, if worn next the skin, pro- 
tects directly from colds, as it imbibes the 
perspiration quickly : thus the skin remains 
dry and the seat of evaporation is changed. 
It is especially advisable for those who per- 
spire freely to wear woolen underclothing 



during hot weather. The best preventive 
against taking cold is the plan of keeping the 
feet, the back, and the abdomen constantly 
warm, without, however, raising too much 
the temperature of other regions. 

Chmate should influence the manner of 
living and of dress. Our feelings as to tem- 
perature in different climates depend largely 
upon habit. When the inhabitants of tem- 
perate climates are freezing, Esquimaux feel 
comfortable ; and when the former experi- 
ence comfort, those from a tropical country 
are apt to feel cold. 

Right Kind of Clothing. 

The difference between black clothing and- 
white is well known. Black absorbs heat 
rapidly, while white does so to only a very 
slight degree. The former color is therefore 
best adapted to cold seasons and climates,, 
the latter to a heated atmosphere. Black 
goods also possess the property of absorbing 
with facility the vapors which contain infec- 
tious germs, and for this reason dark woolen: 
dresses are inadmissible for nurses. 

Every article of wearing apparel should be 
made sufficiently large to admit of the free 
passage of air between the clothing and the 
skin. Evaporation and consequent coolness 
of the skin are thereby promoted. Clothing; 
of ample proportions is therefore to be 
recommended during the hot season, as welS 
as to those who live in hot countries. But 
loosely-cut clothing is also very agreeable m 
cold weather on account of the disadvan- 
tages of tightly-fitting articles, such, for 
instances, as gloves and shoes. A very 
objectionable and even dangerous habit is- 
that of wearing garments which compress 
the neck, the chest, or the region of the 
stomach. 

The Head, being protected by hair, should 
be covered only lightly, and should be kept 



460 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



cool. Only heat, cold and wet are to be 
guarded against. The hat should be very- 
light, and should not fit the head too closply. 
It should not be kept longer than strictly 
necessary upon the head, and should be 
provided with due means of ventilation. 
Failure to observe the above rules will often 
lead to baldness. Hats of braided horse- 
hair are the best for summer use, but pre- 
ferably a parasol should be used as a protec- 
tion against the rays of the sun, and the hat 
should be carried in the hand. 

The Neck should be left uncovered from 
childhood up. Stiff, high cravats and collars 
ought not to be worn, but only such as are 
large enough to admit the introduction of, 
at least, three fingers. Paper collars are 
often impregnated with zinc or lead, and 
may become dangerous to persons who per- 
spire a great deal. 

Injuries from Tight Dresses. 

The Chest should be clothed in garments 
sufficiently loose to allow of full expansion. 
Tightly-fitting dresses and corsets in the case 
of women and vests or coats tightly but- 
toned up to the neck are unhealthy in mas- 
culine attire. 

The Corset is used in a most unreason- 
able manner so frequently that the wish to 
see it discarded absolutely is a very preva- 
lent one. This, however, is not to be ex- 
pected, and, if due attention be paid to the 
rational construction and sensible wearing of 
the garment, is unnecessary. At all events 
young girls should not be allowed to wear 
corsets before the age of puberty. For wo- 
men it should be so arranged that the region 
just below the ribs may not be compressed ; 
for, around the pit of the stomach are 
grouped in the interior of the body the 
most important vital organs, the heart and 
lungs above the diaphragm, and the liver, 



stomach and spleen below it. The normal 
action of these organs suffers, of course, by 
compression. 

The dire effects of tight lacing are very 
evident in some cases : the liver, and some- 
times the spleen, show grooves caused by 
the pressure of the ribs and of the sharp 
extremity of the breast bone. How could 
such organs continue to act normally? It. 
is impossible, and the purification of the 
blood as well as the formation of the bile are 
impeded by the crippled condition of the 
organs upon which they depend. 

Paralyzing the Muscles. 

The surgeon knows very well the weak- 
ening effect of corsets upon the muscles they 
compress. A leg just released from aplaster- 
of-paris casing, which has held it far more 
loosely than a corset, is, nevertheless, emaci- 
ated, and remains weak for a certain time. 
Still more does the corset, instead of improv- 
ing the figure, utterly disfigure it by render- 
ing the muscles of the back and chest more 
or less incapable of use. No one would 
think of putting a paralyzed arm into a 
spHnt ; on the contrary, one would exercise 
it, employ it, apply massage to it : but a 
weak back we swathe in bandages, instead 
of bathing, rubbing and exercising it : in 
other words, we complete the paralyzing 
process. 

A second effect of wearing corsets is the 
restraint they impose upon the movements 
of respiration. If we measure with a spiro- 
meter the quantity of air which can be in- 
haled and that which can be exhaled, we 
find that from twenty to thirty-four per cent, 
less air is inhaled beneath a tightly-fitting 
corset than when the corset is loosely worn. 
Such a sequence must inevitably deplete the 
circulation and predispose to consumption. 

"The more nearly a woman's waist is 




wr 



461 



462 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



shaped like an hour-glass, the more certainly 
does it show us that her sands of life are 
running out." 

The Feet are frequently tortured by tight 
shoes, whose pressure impairs their health- 
fulness of function. Cotton stockings are 
preferable except for those who suffer from 
■excessive sweating of the feet : these should 
wear woolen stockings constantly. Rubbers 
and arctics are very useful in cold and wet 
weather, but should always be removed 
while in a warm room. Rubbers are not to 
foe recommended for constant wear, because 
they interfere with proper ventilation of the 
^eet. Two pairs of shoes are desirable for 
■each individual, to be worn on alternate 
days, since a single night's exposure to the 
air in usually insufficient to free these articles 
from moisture. 

Slaves to Dress. 

All articles of clothing should be changed 
.as frequently as possible. Especially should 
wet garments be replaced by dry ones as 
•soon as opportunity offers. Cases of arseni- 
cal poisoning have occasionally been ob- 
served as a result of wearing goods in whose 
coloring matter arsenic is found. Green 
colors are most suspicious in this connection. 

Many refined women complain that 
equality of rights is denied them and that 
they are thereby kept in subjection to the 
male sex. The greater subjection however 
would seem to be that which they endure of 
their own accord. A woman who wishes to 
appear ladylike must pay dearly in a certain 
species of slave-chains : for the iron-clad, 
steel-plated corsets which prohibit free 
mobility and suppress all feeling of personal 
liberty, the painting of the face, the sleeves 
which fit tightly like bands about the arms 
and restrain motion at shoulder and elbow, 
the high-heeled shoes, all enemies of com- 



fort and health — by what other name shall 
we call these? And to what purpose such 
endurance? Only to disfigure and degrade 
the finest piece of nature's handiwork, 
lovely woman. 

Sensible men mvariably prefer the natural 
appearance and simplicity of manner to those 
artificial ones which so often only serve as a 
cloak to the reality. The women of ancient 
Greece were far wiser in this regard than 
those of the latter day : they knew full well 
that health means beauty, and they acted 
upon this knowledge. 

Blind Devotees of Fashion. 

It seems to us full time for the refined 
American lady to emancipate herself from 
fasionable humbuggery in dress and to send 
a real declaradon of independence from a 
senseless tyranny to those aristocratic dames 
of Continental monarchies who at present 
dictate fashion. By so doing, no doubt she 
runs the risk of losing the sympathy of 
weak-minded dudes, who are either aristocrats 
themselves, or who assume aristocratic airs ; 
but in this we can see no disadvantage, for 
she would gain thereby the respect of men 
who are genuine representatives of republi- 
can intellect, sense and character. 

We cannot too strongly deprecate the 
laying of too much stress upon the question 
of dress and upon external appearance in 
general. It always shows lack of good 
taste, and it may in the end undermine the 
moral nature of the individual. Children 
should be brought up with this principle in 
view. They should never be restrained by 
dress from that full liberty of movement 
which ensures perfection of physical develop- 
ment. 

But while we thus strongly object to the 
fashionable attire of women, we must not be 
understood to maintain that the dress of the 



GOOD HEALTH. 



463 



stronger sex is any more an ideal one. The 
style of dress adopted by the ancient Greeks 
and Romans was far more sensible and prac- 
tical, especially in summer, as is that of the 
Mohammedan peoples of the Orient to-day, 
admitting as it does far greater liberty of 
movement. Among our own people the 
costume of the American mountaineer may 
be commended for comfort and convenience, 
and its use advocated everywhere in summer, 
-even in the large cities. 

Sensible Garments. 

The climate of America is a milder one 
than we or our ancestors have been accus- 
tomed to in Europe. Loose-fitting clothing, 
therefore, is more appropriate here than 
there, and only when the winter season 
brings a return of arctic rigors should resort 
"be had again to the bondage of high collars, 
gloves, and silk hats. In any case we can 
well afford to do away with the short over- 
coat, which not only gives a ridiculous 
appearance to the figure, but is totally inade- 
quate to give needed protection to the abdo- 
men. 

Light is an essential of life, not only by 
its direct action upon the skin and by serv- 
ing as the medium of vision, but also in- 
directly, because through, by, and in it 
alone can the development of oxygen in the 
vegetable organism take place. This process 
results in the exhalation of oxygen by the 
leaves and other organs of the plant, while 
they inhale and decompose carbonic acid in 
order to utilize the carbon for the nourish- 
ment of the organism. 

Moleschott calls both flowers and fruits 
"children of the light, woven from sunny 
air." They are condensed sunbeams, so to 
speak. With vegetable matter, in the form 
of coal and wood, we heat our rooms ; and 
by using vegetable substances as food we are 



enabled to perform muscular work and exer- 
cise. Thus, light is the indispensable 
medium of life, while plants, animals and 
human beings, deprived of Ught, it has often 
been illustrated, become pale and emaciated 
and soon perish. 

Sunlight aids in maintaining the purity of 
the atmosphere by the part it takes in trans- 
forming the chlorophyll of the green por- 
tions of plants. By its influence the air is 
freed from carbonic acid, whose poison 
would, otherwise, collect in increasing quan- 
tities, and which it replaces with invigorat- 
ing oxygen. So efficient a purifier of the 
atmosphere is sunlight that it assists the 
oxidation of the organic materials it contains 
and so their removal. 

That Musty Smell. 

For instance, the musty smell which 
strikes one so disagreeably in living rooms 
is stronger and more tenacious in northerly 
rooms than in those Avhich face southward 
and which are consequently exposed to the 
sun. Finally, sunlight destroys certain 
micro-organisms in their very germs. The 
influence exerted by lack of sunlight upon 
the development of disease has been esti- 
mated from statistics collected among the 
children reared in Rostock at the public ex- 
pense. 

Of ninety-eight such children twelve were 
affected with scrofula, that precursor of con- 
sumption, of whom four lived in cellars and 
five in dark attics, where the sun could not 
penetrate. And in Italy, the classical abode 
of that disease, the origin of malaria may 
frequently be traced to the same cause. 

The air of a well-lighted room is better 
than that of a dark one. Thus the Italian 
sa\-ing, "Where the sun does not enter the 
doctor does," may be regarded as tolerably 
correct. Sunlight gives courage and hope 



464 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and makes us glad, free and happy. If the 
sky is overcast, if fog and darkness reign 
supreme, then beware of melanchoHa, of 
hypochondria, of despondency bordering 
upon suicidal mania. 

Too much sunlight, however, like every 
other excess, works harm. The weary trav- 
eler, wending his way through the southern 
Sahara, treads upon sar.d in which an egg is 
hardened within a few minutes. No wonder 
his feet are soon covered with blisters ; no 
wonder the exposed portions of his skin are 
soon scorched and blistered too by the merci- 
less rays of the fiery orb. 

The Nervous System. 

The danger from exposure to heat in our 
climate is of a somewhat different kind. In 
our large cities we are affected, not only by 
the direct rays of the sun, but also by the 
heat that is reflected from the sun-scorched 
walls of buildings and from the stones of 
pavements and sidewalks. In open country 
the conditions are decidedly better.. The 
air is purer, and the lawns and meadows and 
woods absorb much of the heat, so that 
radiation is much diminished. It is in ac- 
cordance with this suggestion from nature 
that we try to protect ourselves against too 
strong light by using shades for our eyes 
to reflect the rays of heat and light. For 
a similar reason also it is that we wear light 
clothes in summer. 

The nervous system requires food that is 
rich in albuminous and fatty matter. Phos- 
phorous is absolutely indispensable, since 
nervous tissues contain a large amount of it, 
partly in albuminous compounds, and partly 
in alkaline phosphates. Milk, eggs and 
meat are therefore the best foods for nourish- 
ing and strengthening the nervous system, 
together with sufficient quantities of fat and 
carbo-hydrates. 



The circulation of blood through the 
organs of nervous action must be properly 
regulated. This may be achieved by suit- 
able exercise and deep inspirations. Light, 
warmth, and pure air, the air of the forest in 
particular, tend to improve the health of 
these organs. 

Any organ in the human body, if put to 
but little use, gradually diminishes, it is found,, 
in force and energy, continued inactivity 
leading to a complete withering of its sub- 
stance. In like manner a brain kept in 
a state of inactivity loses by degrees its 
power of perception and judgment. This is 
best illustrated in certain instances where 
children have grown up among animals, 
without any intercourse with human beings. 
Such children have been found incapable of 
speech, unable to tell right from wrong, and 
exhibiting no trace of reason : their feats of 
bodily skill and activity however are supe- 
rior to those of which most animals are 
capable. 

How the Brain is Nourished. 

Our brains are best nourished and strength- 
ened by work, just as our muscles become 
harder and firmer by constant use. The 
brains of men Avho have done considerable 
mental work during life show some peculiari- 
ties which illustrate this principle ; the sub- 
stance of the brain is of unusually hard 
consistency, and the gray matter is remark- 
ably developed. It seems more than prob- 
able that the continually increasing size of 
the human skull, especially of its anterior 
portion, is due solely to the progress of 
civilization. The human race, at least, is 
constantly perfecting its intellectual resources 
and capabiUties. This because of the com- 
bined influences of heredity and education 
which are constantly at work, moulding and 
shaping men and their intellects, their brain ; 




GATHERING THE FRUITS OF AUTUMN. 



465 



466 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



and their skulls. The use of any part of 
the body has its effect upon the part used. 

The selection of brain work requires a 
great deal of care. Beginning with easy 
and gradually progressing to harder tasks 
will never occasion dangerous after effects, 
such as we frequently observe in children. 
Their brains are normally much softer and 
contain a larger amount of liquid contents 
than those of adults, and they should there- 
fore be very carefully dealt with. 

Still worse is the experiment so often tried 
in our schools of forcing sickly, anaemic 
children to the same rate of progress with 
those who are healthy. For the former, 
inasmuch as their brain-substance is poorly 
nourished, are far too slow to satisfy their 
instructors, and in some instances are 
entirely unfit for mental effort. This sort 
of forcible intellectual training, of which 
•many parents and many teachers are guilty, 
is the more harmful to a growing brain, the 
less satisfactory are the external conditions 
surrounding the child, such as improper 
feeding, poor living, and insufficient rest. 

Unnatural Excitements. 

Nothing is so hurtful to a brain as dispro- 
portion between work and rest. Mental 
vigor is always impaired by over-exertion 
at hard and long-continued labor, by irrita- 
tion from frequent and unnaturally violent 
nervous impressions, by want of sleep, or by 
severe intellectual effort. 

Among the causes of unnatural excite- 
ment alcohoHc liquors play an important 
part. At first they seem to enliven and 
stimulate the brain to greater activity, but 
soon the weakening and depressing effects 
manifest themselves. 

Sleep is absolutely indispensable to main- 
taining the normal composition of the brain 
substance and thereby to the proper supply 



of bra'n force. The more work the brain 
has accomplished, the more sleep is neces- 
sary for recuperation. Sleep will refresh 
and invigorate the brain, as well as the ner- 
vous and muscular systems, only when it 
lasts sufficiently long, and when it is unin- 
terrupted, sound, and quiet. To fulfil these 
conditions must therefore be our aim. Atten- 
tion must consequently be paid, not only to 
the frequency, the regularity, and the length 
of the period in sleep, but also to the sur- 
roundings during sleep. 

Sleeping Apartments. 

The Bedroom should be spacious, moder- 
ately warm and quiet, and its air should be 
kept dry and pure. It should face toward 
the south, and should be as far removed as 
possible from all damp, mouldy, and ill- 
smeUing localities. If one person sleeps 
alone in a large room whose window he does 
not wish to keep open over night, he should 
at all events thoroughly ventilate the apart- 
ment for sortie length of time before retiring. 
But when several persons sleep in the same 
room the air can only be kept pure by con- 
stant ventilation. Leaving the windows 
open all day long, but closing them at night, 
does not afford sufficient change of air. In 
a badly ventilated bedroom one is extremely 
liable to inhale the floating germs of disease 
and other noxious particles during sleep. 

For this reason perhaps, infectious diseases 
occur much more frequently in winter, when 
ventilation is not so thorough as in warmer 
seasons, most persons being unreasonably 
afraid on account of the cold. Good venti- 
lation however tends rather to establish cur- 
rents of air, which remove these germs 
completely, or at least in large part; and 
even, should some enter the body, the latter 
will be in better condition to resist their 
action on account of its increased supply of 



GOOD HEALTH. 



467 




With body erect and 

hands at sides, move With hands on the hips, 

the head to right and move the upper part of the 

left, and forward and body to right and left, and 

backward ; strength- forward and backward ; this 

■ens the muscles of the strengthens the muscles of 

neck. the chest and back. 

You should always be careful not to overstrain 
any of your muscles. Here lies one of the dangers 
of exercise. The exercise itself is good and in every 
way advantageous, but you are constantly on the 
border line of excess. And muscles injured by 
straining may be a long time in recovering. Never 
attempt to take exercise when your muscles feel sore 
and unequal to the task. It should not be difficult 
for you to get limbered up ; if it is, your muscles 
have been overworked. 




Close the hands, extend the arms in front as shown 
by the dotted lines, and bring the hands together 
behind the back ; repeat at least twenty times. 




Stand erect, with arms straight at the sides ; raise 
and lower the arms as shown in. the figure ; repeat at 
least twenty times. 

Your arms are a considerable part of yourself and 
a very important part. And, like other portions of 
the body, they are capable of being strengthened 
and made more efficient than they ever would be 
without proper exercise. You should practice gym- 
nastics until the muscles are hard and strong, yet it 
is not the amount of muscle that should be con- 
sidered, but its quality. 




Hold the right arm out horizontally, palm of hand 
iipward ; double the left arm, the tips of the fingers 
resting on the shoulder ; then stretch out the left 
arm, at the same time bringing the right arm to the 
position shown by the dotted lines ; repeat, and then 
make the movements with both arms simultaneously. 



468 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



oxygen. Perhaps also the germs are ren- 
dered harmless in a mechanical -way by good 
ventilation ; while in impure and damp air, 
where respiration is not so well sustained, 
germs which have already been inhaled are 
less likely to continue floating in the inspired 
air and to be exhaled with it before effecting 
a lodgment. 

Healthy individuals can surely sleep with 
open windows, when in some English and 
German hospitals the sick are compelled to 
do so to their great benefit, the only precau- 
tion taken being to avoid a draft directly 
upon the person. In various German insti- 
tutions for the treatment of consumptives it 
is an inflexible rule that patients are not 
allowed indoors : not only do they he upon 
cots in the open air all day, but at night they 
are removed into open tents ; this treatment 
being attended by the most gratifying results. 

Too Much Ventilation. 

In regions, however, where intermittent or 
yellow fever prevails, and where various 
forms of malaria are indigenous, ventilation 
must be very carefully regulated, the win- 
dows being opened only during the day, for 
at night the poisonous exhalations from the 
ground are most active, especially if rain 
has fallen shortly before. And indeed, 
under all circumstances it is safer, when 
windows are left open, to sleep in a room as 
far as possible from the ground. These rules 
become less imperative after a long drouth 
and during continuous rain or cold northerly 
winds. 

In winter time in our climate the stove is 
a bad neighbor so far as the supply of fresh 
air is concerned, for it needs a great deal of 
oxygen, twenty-four times as much as a 
man, and this it robs from its human room- 
mates, only to return them an occasional 
whiff of smoke mingled with treacherous 



gases. But ventilation will overcome all 
this, if sleeping in a cold room is not con- 
sidered desirable. When the windows are 
open, enough oxygen will be supplied to' the 
sleepers as well as to the stove. 

All lights should be extinguished befo.e 
retiring, as their presence is irritating, not 
only to the eye, but also to the brain. The 
worst of all lights to sleep by is a gas light, 
unless turned quite low, for a strong gas jet 
consumes twelve times as much oxygen ax 
a man, and for this reason it should at all 
times be avoided where ventilation is not 
good. 

Warm Covering at Night. 

A few other points may be referred to in 
connection with sleep. The covers should 
be drawn up over the stomach in order to 
keep it warm. For full-blooded persons the 
pillow should be moderately high, so th.t 
the head is raised above the level of tl:c 
body. In the case of one with impoverished 
blood, however, it is generally better to 
sleep with the head lower, and even en a 
level with the body. Lying upon the Lac!; 
is to be avoided, since it may cause irritalicn 
of the spine and consequent nervous excite- 
ments. When constipation exists, phy: i- 
should be taken at such a time that its efiect 
will not disturb the night's rest. Other 
natural desires should be heeded at once, 
because quiet sleep is impossible i:nle?:s this 
be done. 

Another rule indispensable to good he;-Lii 
is, never to sleep upon a feather bed. Owing 
to the non-conductive properties of feathers, 
the gases of the body, so detrimental to the 
human system, accumulate within the so.''t 
mass. Moreover these beds are the genera; 
reservoirs of the various exhalations fron: 
different bodies which ha\c lain upon thc;v. 
Hence husk, palm-ler.f cr hair mattress-. s 



GOOD HEALTH. 



469 




Holding the arms straight, swing them with a 
rotary motion, thrusting them forward as they are 
tlevated and backward as they are lowered, bringing 
them to the sides, and then repeat. 

Give full swing to yonr arms. Do not get into a 
cramped position. Let all your movements be free. 
Expand the chest by full breathing and keep the 
body erect. Let the clothing be loose and wear little 
during your exercise. 




Lift the hands from the sides to the shoulders, then 
raise the arms at full length above the head, and also 
extend them horizontally as shown in the dotted 
lines. 




Standing erect, with 
the hands on the hips, 
lower the body as 
shown in the figure, 
and rise ; repeat at 
least fifteen times, but 
not too fast. 



Placing the hands on the 
hips, right leg forward and 
left leg slightly bent, bring 
the body into the position 
of the dotted lines ; then 
placing the left leg forward, 
repeat movements. 



Be careful not to strain the muscles of the back or 
lower limbs while going through these exercises. 
Be deliberate and go slowly. Nothing can be gained 
by haste. 




With the body bent 
forward, closed hands be- 
tween the knees, raise 
the body and elevate the 
hands above the head, 
taking care to keep the 
arms straight ; repeat 



Place the hands on the 
front side of the hips, 
bend the body forward, 
and then rise to an erect 
position ; at the same 
time throwing the head 
backward ; repeat. 



470 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



should be adopted in their place. These 
can easily be obtained. 

A proper alternation between exercise and 
rest is a prime necessity for a healthy condi- 
tion of the muscular system. Muscular 
fatigue is caused by the accumulation in the 
muscles of waste products, which are formed 
more rapidly by exertion than they can be 
carried away in the blood-stream. But there 
is still another source of fatigue. The 
oxygen necessary to the proper performance 
of muscular work is present in the muscle 
beforehand, and its store cannot be replen- 
ished during exercise. When therefore the 
amount of oxygen present is exhausted, 
fatigue begins. A fatigued muscle is phys- 
ically and chemically different from what it 
was before its task was commenced. Rest 
alone can restore it to its former condition. 

How to Rest the Brain. 

By the constantly alternating pressure 
which a contracting muscle exerts on the 
blood and lymph vessels in its neighborhood 
the circulation of these liquids is accelerated, 
the current in the veins, which return the 
blood from the general system to the heart, 
being particularly influenced. 

It is well known that when attention is con- 
centrated upon certain nerves and muscles, 
the muscular exertion relieves the tension of 
the brain ; and thus the fact is explained that 
hard bodily work and continued muscular 
exercise free the mind temporarily of many 
of its cares. The elimination of waste ma- 
terial takes place chiefly during rest, and 
mostly through the kidneys in the form of 
urea, as we have already seen. At this time 
the flow of blood to the muscles increases, 
new material is furnished them in abundance, 
and new muscle and nerve substance is 
formed in store for future demand. 

Muscular exercise is of paramount im- 



portance, for every movement and almost 
every activity of the body is due to muscu- 
lar exertion. The same agency farthermore 
generates manual dexterity and force, 
strengthens the will, quiets the brain, helps 
develop the bones of the frame, and assists 
greatly those important physiological pro- 
cesses, circulation and purification of the 
blood, the movements cf respiration and 
digestion. 

Violent Exercise, 

By overexertion much harm may be 
done, weakness induced amounting almost 
to palsy, enormous development cf the mus- 
cular system effected at the expense of other 
organs, particularly the brain, which. then 
becomes very slow and dull, anaemia devel- 
oped in consequence of overtaxing cf the 
blood, enlargement of the heart brou2;ht 
about with palpitation, and dilatation of the 
lungs with asthma. 

Disfigurements and deformities of various 
kinds are likely to result, when certain parts, 
only of the muscular system are used. Fre- 
quent and rational use of a muscle, followed 
by sufficient I'est, will make it plump, hard 
and strong, while continuous inactivity 
renders it flabby, thin, and at last fatty. 

Subjoined are certain Rules to be ob- 
served during Exercise. All tight clothing,, 
especially about the neck and chest, must be 
removed. The various sets of muscles 
should be trained, and, therefore, the move- 
ments must involve all the joints, alternat- 
ing systematically. The muscles of respira- 
tion and those of the abdomen should be- 
particularly remembered. The various, 
troubles of the digestive organs are thus 
favorably influenced, and affections of the 
heart and lungs successfully combated, inas- 
much as a narrow chest may be broadened 
by rendering the contractions of the respira- 



GOOD HEALTH. 



471 




Steady yourself with one hand on a chair ; place 
the other hand on the hip and swing the leg as 
shown in the figure ; repeat, and then swing the 
other leg in like manner. 

The lower limbs always get good exercise from 
walking, but there are various motions which they 
obtain only by a proper system of gymnastics. Bear 
in mind that the lower limbs are constantly brought 
into use, and the more perfect they are in form and 
efficiency the better it is for the whole body. You 
should exercise the leg muscles regularly, as thereby 
they become stronger and better able to perform 
their work. Weak lower limbs give a young man 
the appearance of a tottering old man whose vitality 
has long since had its day. 




Steady yourself with one hand on a chair, place 
the other hand on the hip, and swing the leg forward 
and backward ; repeat, and then swing the other leg 
in like manner. 




Stretch the body forward, placing the hands on a 
chair ; then straighten the arms and raise the bo(l\-. 
This must not be repeated so many times as to render 
the muscles sore and stiff. 




This figure shows the position of the body after it 
is raised from the chair according to directions ac- 
companying preceding figure ; do not make t^ie 
movements rapidly, as this will produce exhaustion. 




With arms bent, hold the wan ,1 behind the back 
as shown by the figure ; this throws the chest f.T- 
ward ; then bend and straighten the legs alternate' y. 



472 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



tory muscles more efficient. A narrow chest 
is ominous of lung disease. 

Extreme fatigue should never be induced. 
As soon as there is an appreciable feeling of 
fatigue, exercise should be suspended. Al- 
though the number of working hours in 
Europe exceeds that customary in the 
United States, the amount of work per- 
formed here is greater and produces more 
fatigue. Rest should continue until all feel- 
ing of fatigue is gone. 

The intensity and duration of the move- 
ments practiced must be increased very grad- 
ually, if increase of muscular strength is 
■desired. Nutrition must be proportioned to 
the activity of the body, otherwise the 
system will succumb. Poor diet will always 
tell at last, because income and expenditure 
-are not equalized. 

Take in a Full Breath. 

Pure air and full breathing are required 
during and after exercise : the latter not 
only promotes change of air in the lungs, 
but also quickens the functions of circula- 
tion and digestion. As soon as rapid re- 
spiration and palpitation set in exercise 
should cease ; also when headache, dizzi- 
ness and other disagreeable sensations are 
present, when the face becomes pale and 
pinched or flushes suddenly, or when a feel- 
ing of great heat or excessive prespiration 
sets in. People who suffer from heart or 
lung diseases must be particularly cautious 
as to exercise. 

Eating must be avoided shortly before or 
shortly after any considerable exertion, as 
digestion is thereby impaired. Exposure to 
cold on such an occasion is especially in- 
jurious to the heart. When not in a posi- 
tion to practice muscular exercise, massage 
of the muscles should take its place. 

If the above rules are followed closely. 



the salutary effects of exercise will be speed- 
ily experienced. Affections of the brain and 
nervous organism of a functional nature, 
such as hysteria, hypochondriasis, melan- 
cholia, sleeplessness, and despondency, will 
soon disappear. Disturbances of the circu- 
lation will be improved or wholly cured, 
since the heart and blood-vessels are enabled 
to contract more forcibly. The blood will 
become healthier, because the waste material 
is carried off more efficiently. 

Outdoor Sports. 

Persons suffering from gout, rheumatism, 
or obesity will feel as though created anew, 
and anaemic and chlorotic girls will regain 
their color and lose the curvatures and 
deformities of the spine which are due to 
muscular weakness. 

Healthy exercise is best obtained through 
such sports as rowing, skating, swimming, 
fencing, tennis-playing, bicycling, and horse- 
back riding. Dancing in itself is a healthy 
exercise, but it is almost invariably overdone, 
and the surrounding conditions are decidedly 
unfavorable ; no rest is taken between the 
dances; it is indulged in at night after the 
proper bed-time, in tightly fitting dresses, 
and in hot, dusty, poorly ventilated halls, 
crowded with people ; then also it lasts too 
long, and too much drinking is habitually 
indulged in at balls, parties, and similar 
assemblages. 

Dancing on platforms erected in the open 
air in shady places, preferably in the woods, 
is far less objectionable. The action of cold 
upon the skin and lungs is much to be 
dreaded, and sudden changes of air when 
dancing must be carefully guarded against. 

Gymnastics and mountain-chmbing are 
upon the whole the best methods of exer- 
cise, provided the rules we have given are 
acted upon. The air in large cities is far 



GOOD HEALTH. 



473 




This is an exercise to strengthen the muscles of 
the wrists aud arms, and consists in holding the 
dumb bells out and bending the wrists each way as 
far as possible. 

Dumb bells furnish excellent exercise, but they 
should not be too heavy, nor should they be used 
very long at any one time. When j-our muscles 
begin to feel tired lay down the dumb bells at once. 
Exercise is of little use to you after it becomes 
wearisome. You should always enjoy it and it 
should exhilarate every part of j'ou. 




With arms extended side- 
wise, palms downward, 
Hold the bells high lower the bells to the sides 
above the head, then and raise them ; repeat, 
lower and elevate the then strike the bells _to- 
arms at least a dozen gether m front and behind 
times. the back. 




This figure shows the rotary motion with dumb 
bells. Bend the body forward, resting the weight on 
one foot, then on the other, swinging the bells low 
as you change from one foot to the other. 

The necessity of physical education for girls is 
now generally recognized. We do not need any 
labored argument on this point. Healthful exercise 
is conducive to health, and health is what the Ameri- 
can woman needs. The exercises here recommended 
are the best and can easily be practiced by all. 




A girl's gymnastic dress should be loose through- 
out and gathered at the waist. Stand erect with 
hands on the hips and light weight on the head ; 
then rise on the toes and fall. 



474 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



from possessing the purity desirable to prac- 
tice athletic exercises in, and it ij better on 
this account to establish the gymnasium in 
the upper part of the house. 

Calisthenics are coming more and more 
into use every day for ladies and girls, 
although much still remains to be done 
toward their perfection. This is a branch of 
education which deserves wider attention — 
not only that it is much more healthy than 
many semi-superfluous theoretical studies ; 
but it actually tends to improve the com- 
plexion and beautify the face and figure. 

Benefits of Mountain-Climbing. 

Nothing should be regarded as of greater 
importance than healthy exercise, and there 
is no exercise preferable to mountain-climb- 
ing. Here a variety of favorable conditions 
obtain, healthy ground, pure air, a healthful 
mode of exercise promotive of vigorous res- 
piration and digestion, and the profound 
enjoyment and equanimity which accompany 
the constantly changing aspects of beautiful 
and majestic landscapes. In mountain- 
climbing accordingly, to the directly bene- 
ficial effect upon the health of the individual 
we find added the peculiar gratification 
enjoyed by every lover of nature. 

The strengthening and invigorating effect 
of exercise, and especially of mountain- 
climbing, is warmly to be commended. For 
the latter, by the relief it gives from the 
cares of business, combined with residence 
in a healthful locality, active respiration of 
pure air, and the drinking of pure water, 
exerts not only a transitory beneficial effect, 
but even, in most cases, leads to permanent 
cure of disease or tends to prevent its occur- 
rence. 

The best inhalation apparatus, baths, and 
medicaments are of but temporary value, if 
no compensation is made for the loss of 



vitality and of muscular tone, especially that 
of the heart and blood-vessels ; if the blood- 
stasis in the glands and other organs does 
not yield to an increased flow of blood in 
arteries and veins ; if the thinned blood does 
not become thicker and more rich in albu- 
men ; if the accumulating carbonic acid is 
not expelled by a more plentiful supply of 
oxygen ; if the fat deposited in the body is 
not more rapidly oxidized ; and if the kid- 
neys are not made to act more efficiently. 

But all these effects are produced more 
certainly and more promptly by mountain- 
climbing than in any other way. After 
several weeks spent in mountain excursions, 
the condition of the patient is radically 
changed for the better. There is an elastic- 
ity of the mental processes in place of the 
former dullness; will, thought, and impulse 
seem to move on wings ; the formerly dull 
senses are sharpened ; the formerly half- 
closed eyes sparkle, and the flabby cheeks 
become full and rosy ; the once prominent 
abdomen is reduced to more seemly dimen- 
sions, notwithstanding that food and drink 
are taken with greater relish ; while the 
chest is expanded. 

New Life and Vigor. 

These changes, it is true, are not without 
their inconveniences to the patient as regards 
his apparel, for his unmentionables are 
found to have become much too large 
around the waist, while his coat, collar and 
shirt have grown too small. He who was 
before so heavy and dull now feels as elastic 
and sprightly as if the burden of earthly 
existence had been lifted from his shoulders, 
and, almost as in his childhood days, goes- 
running and springing along, covering a dis- 
tance of ten or twelve miles a day. He has 
no longer the shape of a discontented and 
surly creature, a parody on mankind, but 



GOOD HEALTH. 



475 




Grasp the wand, about three feet in length, with 
both hands, then raise the wand as high as the head, 
and lower to the above position ; repeat twenty times. 

There can be no perfection of womanhood without 
the development of her physical nature. To a very 
great extent, the mind is dependent upon the body. 
In order to think, to study, to perform household 
duties, to appear well in society and make the best 
of yourself, you must have sound and robust health. 
A thin, pale, puny, half-lifeless woman is a dis- 
credit to her sex. She is poorly fitted for the high- 
est duties and activities of life. She is unattractive, 
and lacks that sprightliness of mind and bloom of 
countenance which are among her chief charms. 
A course of physical training would rejuvenate her. 





Hold the wand as in the figure, one arm at the 
side, then rotate the wand over the head, bringing 
the other arm to the side ; repeat twenty times. 



Hold the wand and one arm horizontally, with 
other arm bent, then bend the straight arm and 
straighten the bent ; loosen the fingers and clasp the 
wand again with each movement. 

These exercises will not come easy to you at first. 
You may think you are very awkward and afford 
amusement to those who are looking on. It will, 
however, take only a very short time for you to 
accustom yourself to calistUenics, and if you do not 
enjoy them thoroughly you will be different from 
the vast majority of ladies. Here, as elsewhere, 
practice makes perfect. Yoa should patiently con- 
tinue in wel]-doin!7. 




Holding the wand high above the head, lower it 
to the breast, then elevate it, then swing it over the 
head backward, changing the hands so as to retain 
the hold. 



476 



THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 



fits better in the ranks among other strong 
and happy beings : he is possessed of a new 
spirit, his pulse beats more strongly, and the 
tone of his entire circulatory system is 
better. 

The value of such exercise in the cure of 
various diseases is more and more recog- 
nized every day. Systematic exercise of this 
nature is now practiced at several institutions 
in Germany having large tracts of moun- 
tainous land about them laid out with 
graded walks for the cure of heart troubles, 
of obesity, and even of consumption. 

These are intended, of course, for those 
who are allowed a certain amount of exer- 
cise only. For others, suffering from vari- 
ous forms of chronic disease, such as rheu- 
matism, gout, dyspepsia, ansemia and other 
circulatory disturbances, mountain excur- 
sions are organized under the supervision of 
a physician, the walking and climbing being 
systematically undertaken, and the progress 
and effect of the exercise carefully watched. 
But if you cannot reach a mountain to 
climb it, you should not neglect the very 
healthful exercise of walking on level ground. 




which is one of the best means of strength- 
ening and preserving health. 

In Greece, those who practiced running 
were incredibly swift, while of the old Teu- 
tons it is reported that they were able to 
jump over five or six horses standing abreast. 
There are people who can swim many miles 
at a stretch. The cowboys on our western 
plains, the Csikos in Hungary, the Gauchos 
in the Argentine RepubHc, and the Cossacks 
in Russia excel in horseback exercise. Con- 
tortionists, snakemen, india-rubber men and 
kickers are able to turn and twist their bod- 
ies and limbs in an almost inconceivable 
manner, the result of long and hard practice. 

Again, there are laborers in Bulgaria, 
Albania and Armenia who can carry as 
much as four hundred or five hundred 
pounds up the mountains. The Roman 
Emperor Maximinian was so strong that 
he could successfully oppose the strength 
of two horses in drawing a load. There 
are mountaineers, who on level ground 
could not beat a champion runner, but who 
on a mountain ascent would without effort 
leave the same adversary far behind. 



Hold the wand on the shoulders as seen in the 
figure ; then straighten the right arm, at the same 
time drawing in and bending the left ; repeat. 




Placing the wand on the shoulders as seen in the 
iigure, bring the arms to the position shown in the 
dotted lines ; repeat a number of times. 



GOOD HEALTH. 



477 




Hold the wand behind the back as seen in the 
figure, then bring the arms to the position shown by 
the dotted lines ; repeat and alternate. 

Do not be discouraged if you seem to make slow 
progress in physical culture. You pursue such 
studies as the common school branches, ancient and 
modern languages, music, drawing, painting, etc., 
for years ; why, in hke manner, should you not 
spend years in the cultivation of bodily health and 
the development of all your physical powers? From 
day to day you can see no marked improvement, 
but think of the change there will be a year or two 
years from now. 




Place the feet close together, hold the body ercci, 
clasp the wand with both hands and swing it to right 
and left, keeping the arms straight. 

Be careful to undertake only such exercises as are 
suited to your health and physical condition. You 
are not aiming to become masculine, or do what 
only men are expected to do. Think not for a 
moment that there is anything unwomanly in those 
sports, pleasures and physical exercises, that will 
strengthen every part of the body and give fresh 
tone and vigor to the whole system. Be persistent, 
enthusiastic and regular in your practice. 






^^^ 




\ \ 



Hold the wand as shown in From the above figure the reader will form a good idea of the general 
the figure, the right arm ele- movements in the use of Indian clubs. He can vary the movements so as 
ch?st-''tlien^b swi'n^in^faSe to give exercise to all the muscles of the arms, shoulders, chest, and abdo- 
theleftarm and bring the right men. Clubs weighing two pounds apiece are heavy enough for ordinary 
across the chest ; repeat- exercise. 




478 



OVERCOMING DIFFICULTIES. 



